The Clair de Lune Paradox
by SynapticFirefly
Summary: Numbuh 274 narrates a series of events in his youth where Numbuh 362 was his beautifully damaged second-in-command and the spiraling aftermath that came with his inevitable betrayal.
1. Act 0: The Curtain Rises

A/N: This noir styled story is dedicated to Cobwebbs. It wouldn't have received the light of day otherwise.

* * *

**My code name was Numbuh 274. It hadn't been easy being the leader of thousands of kids all over the world, but that was my life. That was my destiny.**

**It was only fitting that her destiny became intertwined with mine. Two broken halves had formed a whole I didn't realize needed to be filled. I suppose that's the cleverness of life. I was just too young, too arrogant.**

**The very hand that should have perfectly fit into mine slipped past like pure sand.**

**I would never get that chance again.**

It's been a loud and active sort of day for him. Numbuh 274 dealt with multiple failed missions from newly formed sectors, hamsters complaining which caused multiple power outages throughout the day, and incompetent senior operatives who should have captured AWOL teen operatives with ease.

By the end of the day, he had been on his last nerve when Numbuh 86 presented the bound and gagged rogue operative Numbuh 206 to her Supreme Leader. She was insufferable about it; smug and proud by the recapture. Gloating was something he never fathomed appealing. Numbuh 86 was a person to take in by spades lest you ended up in the mental ward.

Those who had low self-esteem gloated. They did it to overcompensate their mistakes with their few gains. Absolute weakness.

Flanked by three security officers, Numbuh 274 approached the incarcerated operative on the floor and spared no amount of disdain for traitors like him. He resisted the urge to kick the prone form with his steel-toed boot. During his quiet examination, Numbuh 86 continued prattling on about how she took 206 down with no prior help.

He snorted with little amusement, but she didn't seem to hear him. The only thing of importance was hearing 206's soft, steady breathing.

How odd. Numbuh 206 used an inhaler for his asthma.

Curious, he nudged the prisoner with his boot until he rolled over onto his back. The frame of his body was small and lithe with a grace he couldn't place. The way 206 held himself here differed from what 274 knew from earlier encounters. For instance, Tom had lousy posture and knobby knees.

If he had placed it now, it would almost seem feminine, but _not_.

The prisoner then opened his eyes with a little groan. It was not male either. Somewhat startled by dark brown traitor's eyes, his suspicions were valid.

Numbuh 206 had _green_ eyes.

He gave a short nod at the security guards over his shoulder and they hurried to untie what was obviously not Numbuh 206. Numbuh 86 kept going on and on and on…

Numbuh 274 sighed again and approached the rambling red head, who didn't seem to pay attention to anything but the sound of her own voice.

"Looks like Numbuh 362 is gonna give me a big promotion!" she had boasted to herself. She was referencing their current Head of Operations at time; the person in question was finishing up her career track in Intelligence. Her last infiltration regarded the Delightful Children from Down the Lane.

It was the same place where 206 crashed into for his grand escape from decommissioning. Sector V had been the extraction team sent to provide as 86's backup.

Fate had been ironic that day. The last of the bandaging came undone and Numbuh 362 herself got to her feet; the corners of her lips twisted down. Her dark eyes were alight with both humiliation and anger.

Realizing he was in the uncharacteristic warpath of their Head of Operations, he tried what all Supreme Leaders in his situation would have done: _run the heck out of dodge_.

"Um… Numbuh 86?" he said, hesitant, and poked her on the shoulder for her attention. At the same breath, he could feel Numbuh 362's glare burn into his armor trying to reach 86 through him.

Fanny had turned to glare at him and then realized all too late that he was in charge when she spat out, "Whaaaat?!"

He didn't feel the need to remind her about respecting the chain of command. His instincts warned him well enough to get away from his Head of Operations for her wrath was a rarity unseen. Nor would it be the last, however sporadic it was in their future career together.

Numbuh 86 turned at the direction he pointed and paled, and 274 decided it was time to exit stage left like a champ when she spluttered out 362's name.

"YOU… IDIOT!" 362 had snarled and tore her way toward 86 to give her a reprimand he didn't mind replaying on his vid screen long after the incident passed.

* * *

He lounged in his office seat a few weeks later, ignoring the five separate hard copy files of candidates for the Global Tactical Officer position sitting on his desk. It was the fourth time this month he had recommendations of second-in-command, despite his impassioned reasoning he didn't need one. He was slowly losing his patience the more Numbuh Infinity complained about it. Too much power, too much responsibility, yadda, yadda, yadda.

This instance he didn't bother reading them and they were left on his desk just as they were hours ago. Someone would eventually give up and collect them like usual.

That is until Numbuh Infinity had entered uninvited as usual this time, those meticulous hands clasped themselves behind his back in that ever present black suit. Infinity always seemed to him like some kind of mini-adult watching over them from a high pedestal in the KND. Even now looking back it was ironic.

"I see you're working hard deliberating on the XO candidacy," he drawled and sauntered over like he was Supreme Leader himself. Numbuh 274 could feel the air itself stale by the dryness Infinity had been exuding. Infinity noted the random paper airplanes and the files collecting dust exactly where he put them down _hours _ago and raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses.

Shooting back his own eyebrow, 274 tucked his legs off the edge of his work-space and leaned forward with a grin that won him the command position.

"I don't need an XO," he responded, and made a show of sliding the folders back in Infinity's direction. "They'd just slow me down."

"You haven't even _looked_ at them," Infinity replied with disapproval and flipped the middle one open. "Numbuh 65.3, for instance, has worked the command deck for three years. I'm sure he is itching for a promotion."

Numbuh 274 snorted and reached over to close the folder over 65.3's unappealing mug. "Two words: _pencil pusher_."

Infinity ignored his helpful input and opened another one instead. "Second candidate then. Numbuh 545 has led many successful missions in the Pompeii area. He's also received numerous accolades for destabilizing epic catastrophes. Notable example: the _Mahalo Hot Chili Eruption _in the Hawaii sector_._"

With a shake of his head, 274 did Numbuh 545 a favor and tossed his file into the trash. "Are you crazy? Numbuh 545 would rather be dishonorably decommissioned than be promoted to a desk. You sure you're keeping tabs on all my kids?"

"I must not since I've graciously offered Numbuh 13 to the candidacy list."

Joke or not, Infinity seemed to enjoy watching 274 pale before he pushed his seat away from the offered folder in fear. "I see your plan now," 274 said darkly. "You're hoping to tear the KND apart from the inside. I'm onto you."

The dark operative allowed himself a small chuckle before moving to the next candidate. His sunglasses were glinting in an odd fashion. "Numbuh 1."

"No," 274 snarled, his mood taking a sudden turn south. "Don't you _dare _separate him from his team."

"One day you will have to stop playing favorites, Supreme Leader," Infinity shook his head and much to 274's mild interest, he seemed to be much more deliberate with the last file. He had been thumbing the corner almost the last couple files ago. "This one I personally like, but I'm not sure how well your work dynamic might be with someone like her."

_Her_.

Wary, Numbuh 274 raised his hand up to stop Infinity from going any further with this. "No girls. You know my reputation."

"And what is that? That you're a hard worker?" Infinity teased and slid Numbuh 362's file over with a reverence which spoke volumes. "This one would be immune to your 'charms' if you are calling it that."

Infinity knew something he didn't.

Numbuh 274 glared at Infinity before flipping the folder open, his motion careless. Her piercing dark gaze hit him hard again. He had to close his eyes and suppress the strange thrilling sensation crawling up his back. It was only a picture, but it seemed to capture the shadow of that stare, and he knew her strong reputation came from more than a few choice words or a few lucky breaks.

Rachel McKenzie, code name Numbuh 362. She had earned the reputation for her clinical by-the-book way of handling any mission Global Command threw at her. During her three year career, she received many accolades including glowing recommendations from both the espionage sector and KND Intelligence. Her file was free of any red marks or warnings.

Well, almost free.

Chad wanted to sneer at the picture, but he subconsciously stopped himself from even glancing. He couldn't, not with her piercing gaze always questioning him. She was daring him to nominate her from that picture alone, the black and white ink knowing he couldn't resist a challenge to his throne; not when he could best her and prove that no one could surpass him.

Her file was perfect for a goody-two-shoes and yet this wasn't the case. Not at all. Her way of leading, so nicknamed _cold compassion_ according to some of the notes, implied she had a stern front of reprimanding. She was also impervious to acts of kindness or bribery. Also, her aggression for results and her expecting the best from her underlings was because she believed herself the best.

When Numbuh 86 bumbled through the emergency recapturing order and jeopardized 362's spotless mission completions, that one last mission on her record forever cited as a _mission failure_, the cold spy's bottled emotions popped open in an outpouring of rage unseen until now.

_Last dated mission: Infiltration into Father's summer home and gain information regarding upcoming __**[classified] **__event. __**Mission aborted by order of KND Intelligence**__._

Mission aborted.

Numbuh 274 ended up sitting back in his seat and bit at the inside of his cheek in mild agitation as if it was _his_ file he was reading and not 362's. That struggle for perfect completion she worked three years forever stained. It itched at his skin like a scuff spot on perfect wooden floors that couldn't be scrubbed away.

He hardly spoke with her and yet he could relate. They were two similar stars who almost passed by each other in the great expansion of the universe. How ironic that it took an agent of the very stars itself to point him in the right direction. It would be an interesting once-in-a-lifetime chance to test his gravity and see if he can draw her in.

Time, and his approval for the position, decided whether they could orbit each other like equals, or they ended up fighting for complete control until one of them imploded into nothing but stardust.

By the time he looked back up from her file, Infinity had already left. Things always went his way. He's learned that firsthand.

* * *

The annual KND Promotions Ceremony, once pomp and circumstance, diminished by the after party that came with it. After they pretended to be military with gussied up operatives in their best uniforms accepting awards and possible promotions, the after party was infamous for being an all-out prank zone to make up for that.

As the Supreme Leader of the KND, it didn't mean he was the best child in the organization. On the contrary, the Supreme Leader title was long since designated for the best adult who existed in the body of a child. When he could have been in his office drawing up mission specs and making sure the organization didn't go up in flames over night, he had to entertain his kids who made a grand spectacle of a mess upon themselves.

That part of the job, he had to admit, was tedious. He didn't want to play father tonight or any night. Once the ceremony died down, the after parties were the least he was looking forward to with every passing year.

Maybe he needed some kind of 'mother' figure after all. Someone he could hoist the kids on so he would be at peace, undisturbed in his work.

There were a few notable instances during the party where he suppressed a grin, however. Numbuh 74.239 had whined and stomped around the dance hall drenched in juice and toilet paper while his juniors high-fived each other for booby-trapping his designated chair in the science honoree area. Operatives laughed and pointed at each others' bad luck despite that over the course of the evening, most if not all the senior staff would end up drenched in something disgusting.

Last year, Numbuh 274 ended up tarred and feathered due to carelessness. It would not happen again. He had no qualms shooting people out of airlock again.

After all that congratulating and the unnecessary bum patting of what Infinity called _diplomacy_, he escaped the large hall and onto the open observation deck. It had a striking view of the earth rise, which always captivated him.

He played with his fifth glass of soda pop. The sugar rush that hit him was pleasant even if he was over the designated limit back on earth. As a show of defiance, he smirked and raised the glass to the blue planet above until the three-quarter bright sphere reflected entirely in his glass. At that moment, despite the operatives partying behind him, there were thousands of treehouses all over the little blue planet that would throw themselves at anything he ordered.

Humbleness came from those who didn't expect greatness to come from within. There was nothing to be humbled from what he rightfully worked for and earned.

"Supreme Leader, sir."

Even during a social event, _she_ was above using personal names.

Numbuh 274 lazily turned around and back against the railing, letting the strange ignition of energy in the air between them sit for a moment. He swished the last of the soda in his glass and tipped it back until he emptied it. "Numbuh 362."

He had seen her at the ceremony where everyone loudly cheered for their new Global Tactical Officer. He had approached her as tradition and unhooked the bottle cap on her chest that signified Head of Operations before replacing it with the more appropriate silver star studded pin of second-in-command.

It was that same pin found on the lapels of her jacket. The polished star twinkled in his line of sight and mocked him. Maybe he found it just odd seeing it now on someone else. He had worn that pin once upon a time; back when Numbuh 100 was in charge.

She didn't smile during the ceremony, not once. Everything about her seemed tucked in, like a tightly done coil that, in one small slip up, would unravel her into disrepair. They had locked eyes for a moment befitting one officer to another before he congratulated her out loud for the promotion. Her response, promising to fall in step by his side as his XO, was so stoic you could call it robotic.

It was almost like she believed speaking anything higher than a normal decibel would cause the moon to blow up. That was just the mystery of Numbuh 362.

The ceremony and her response had settled his fears. It would not be a hindrance to have himself a female XO. Numbuh 362, while a small glance from his end, seemed to have no personality to speak of warranting any problems. There was no attraction, no distraction that could disturb the chain of command with any further unnecessary rumors. There were always rumors on his end and he was glad, for once, that nothing of that sort would come from them working together.

She was just a plain Jane operative with odd compelling eyes and he was foolish believing in that.

Numbuh 362 wasn't exactly a robot as he once described. When he witnessed her lashing out at Numbuh 86, there was nothing robotic there. It was that telltale raw look in her eyes; a flickering savageness when she got caught and wrongfully delivered to him on a silver platter. There had been fear and panic that her perfect success record screwed itself completely thanks to 86. The subsequent breakdown in the aftermath had stunned even him into submission.

It was so strange how he saw nothing of that right now looking at her. He was so busy thinking about the comparisons he almost forgot she was waiting for an answer.

"You wanted something?" he finally added and cleared his throat. Her quiet staring was unnerving him.

She wasn't even dolled up like the rest of the girls inside, who had taken advantage of the rarity where they can actually look like girls for once.

Numbuh 362 had folded her hands behind her back and with that frown of displeasure, it reminded him of Numbuh Infinity. Her stance looked all business; there was nothing slack about her presence. His famous keen sense of detail made note of her all-black jumpsuit; the entirety perfectly pressed and buttoned in all the right places. It's almost as if she prepared herself for an airstrike than a celebration. That amused him.

"You are the Supreme Leader," she told him as a matter-of-factly. "It's my duty to be beside you at all times."

"I don't need a mother," Numbuh 274 shot back and set his empty glass aside. With a spread of his arms comfortable against the railing, he experimented with the anomaly dressed as a female human. He gave her his most charming smile. "But I wouldn't mind a _date_."

Maybe it's the soda or the trick of the light, but he could have sworn he saw the corners of her harsh lips twitch upwards for a second there. A half-second passed and there's no sign of a smile, just an unimpressed stare. She was already pegging him as a fool though she'd never say it aloud.

"Perhaps next year," she said slowly, and he knew that she's deliberately baiting him, "you will prepare for one beforehand."

His smile was dark and accusing now he caught on. "You've got quite the subtle sense of humor."

"I was not joking." Her immediate response was chilly, but it had been far too late to trick him now. She may had pulled off that cold treatment on the younger ones, sheep they were, but now she was crossing the path of the lion; she was circling the leader of the pack who knew far better than he let on.

A high-pitched voice broke their alpha posturing. That strange gravitational pull between them dissipated. "Drink?"

One of the new recruits had tittered near the entrance and found an opening to interrupt with their silence. She approached Numbuh 274 with a new glass of soda and he politely accepted, grateful that at least some operatives treated him with respect. He didn't catch the stiffening of 362's shoulders or the fearful step forward.

The little thing tottered out of sight and he mockingly raised a glass to his new second-in-command. He caught her eyes widening and her alarmed stance, but in his sugary haze, couldn't put two and two together. "To our new…" he pinched his eyebrows. "…command team." It was a lousy toast, and they both knew it. They were as compatible as oil to water.

She had moved so fast, he blinked in surprise to find her five feet away to suddenly five inches between them. Another shot of something electric ran down his arm when those manicured fingers entangled his own and around the drink. Her grip was strong, but shaky.

"Commander," her words were tense, but he heard nothing. He was more aware of her breath against his jaw. "Give it to me."

Through the muddled haze, he realized that she wanted his drink, but he tried to tug her hand away. It was a petty thing to fight over, but her eyes had been sizing him up the whole night and in his inebriated stupor, he wanted to prove that he was immune to such intimidation. "Fighting for control already, Numbuh 362? Get your own!"

The drink sloshed around in a drunken tug-o-war, but 362 was perfectly sober and she ended up the obvious victor in the struggle. When he made to move after her, she jumped a clear three feet away from his reach. Her hand and arm was wet and sticky from the beverage.

An irrational annoyance crept into his system, egged on by the sugar in his veins. He made another move as no subordinate should ever be faster than him. His mouth agape, he watched her tip the rest of the drink back herself and swallowed.

The glass had suddenly tumbled out of her slack fingers and shattered loudly on the metal flooring. His XO covered her mouth, doubled over, and for lack of a better word, started to gag.

"Wha…?" he had wondered aloud, unsure what just happened until he looked down.

Surrounded by shards of glass, there had been a lone sprig of broccoli on the floor. He was sober enough to pale. He could have… he could have…

Numbuh 362 began to loudly sob at the sight of the vegetable and tore away in disgust; her free hand clutching her stomach hard. He couldn't utter another word in edgewise before she quickly hopped over the railing and into the park down below.

He picked his jaw up and followed, which hadn't been far. 362 had found sanctuary behind a few trees and doubled over to dry heave.

Work hadn't even started; realizing that he probably _killed_ his Global Tactical Officer was an excellent thought sobering up to.

He wobbled from the soda and had awkwardly tried to pat her on the back. "There, there…" was all he could say, which earned him a dark glare for the trouble. "You could have just…"

She threw up all over his shoes.

Suffice to say, he didn't escape the KND tradition as he initially hoped.

* * *

Even after heaving up half a glass of broccoli spiked soda, Numbuh 362 was still well enough to carry her sugar-crashed superior officer to his quarters. He remembered little the time spent being half-dragged, but he had inklings of witnessing the horror in her eyes when she finished retching and had discovered the leftovers of her dinner on his boots.

She had hosed him down with a single mutter of an apology and just like that, the evening ended with more of a whimper than a bang.

Numbuh 274 took advantage of her 'kindness' and draped himself over her petite form, half because he was unbalanced and half wanting to be a jerk on purpose to make her suffer more. He would fill the empty hallways with both truth and rumors about his _trysts_ with random girls and then heckled 362 until she answered him.

It worked a few times though her responses were curt and dismissive. At one point, tears prickled at the corners of her eyes from the exertion, so he knew when to shut up and keep moving. He may be cruel sometimes, but he was never intentionally malicious. At least, not at this stage.

He had found her threshold of tolerance, but she never showed it in their future working together. It didn't matter as he never actively tried to push past that limit again; not on purpose at the least.

Growing tired of belittling her through insults wrapped in personal tact, he did the opposite, wondering if she would catch on even while under pressure. He was in the middle of a particularly good tactical scenario when he caught her mouth in a harsh thin line of disapproval, but she answered as honestly as possible.

"It is not tactically sound to launch an orbital strike on Mr. Boss' house with a nacho cheese cannon," she told him. There was slight sound of her teeth grinding; it broke the rare silence on her end during their walk. "Further more, we do not have the current viable resources to hoard that much melted cheese on Moonbase, nor would your new Head of Decommissioning appreciate her house nuked."

"Totally _is_ viable," he slurred, grinning like a loon. "It would be like… _BOOM_! Like when you threw up on me."

It was amazing how much patience she had dealing with him in that state. She responded and even made a show of herself by glaring at the path in front of her, but the color of her cheeks gave everything away. "We will not speak of it again."

"So embarrassed," he teased.

"And you're well over the KND legal limit for sugar consumption," she shot back and once the doors to his personal quarters slid open, she dumped him onto his bed. "When I return, you had better changed into something to sleep in. You'll get sick waking up in wet clothes."

He pleasantly sneered, "Yes mom," and did an unnecessary tumble onto the floor so he could crawl his way into the bathroom instead. He didn't know why it was important to mention but maybe his mind was drawing parallels between it and his XO; his bathroom was pristine and cold just like her.

Just as the bathroom door was slowly sliding shut, a pair of track pants and a cotton shirt hit him on the head. He tossed a glare over his shoulder meant for 362, but it did nothing on a metal door as he hoped.

It was a few fumbles later before he got his pants on and then he stared at his shirt like it was the most complicated thing in the universe before he tried to tug that on too. His world turned hazy and his eyelids grew heavy.

That was all he could remember before he woke up hours later on the bathroom floor with a pillow tucked under his cheek and a blanket over him.

"No more…" he groaned. The warm blanket slid past his shoulders while he tried to press two fingers into his throbbing temple; it was that tell-tale sign of a complete sugar crash in his system. Even his _teeth_ were in pain. "No more soda. _Forever_."

He dumped his head in a sink full of cold water to soothe his headache and then retreated from the bathroom to find Numbuh 362 asleep by the bathroom door. The bluish glow of her wristwatch was counting down before she programmed it to beep again in ten minute intervals.

It took a minute, but he slowly deduced what was going on. By-the-book, she programmed her watch and made sure he slept off the sugar lest he ended up in some kind of sugar coma. It wasn't a common occurrence, but he was one of the few kids out there that had an extremely low tolerance for sugar, embarrassing enough.

The fact she remained here was a testament to her duty to him. She did her homework, knew he couldn't handle soda according to his files. He found himself oddly fond by this revelation.

She hadn't even retreated for a fresh uniform the entire vigil.

He quietly ordered the lights down, knelt beside her, and turned off the stopwatch. This time he took an actual good look at her; an examination not hindered by her cold defensive stare or the forced social niceties of their jobs.

Her hair was blond and short; it almost brushed her shoulders. Where her uniform didn't cover, her skin was a pale complexion most likely from months spent undercover. Even her lips seemed to be devoid of color when they should be a healthy pink like all the other girls.

He wondered if she was living bare, or just barely living.

Numbuh 362 was so cold when she spoke, but her intentions spoke a different story. She was mechanical keys pressed on a piano without a song, but sheet music meticulously written and beautiful in its composition.

Why she could seem so unapproachable, but still act like she had a heart of gold? Well, perhaps not gold.

He recalled her file and quietly groaned to himself. _Cold compassion_.

She shifted in her dozing and lost her balance against the wall. Without thinking, he reached for her shoulders and kept her steady until she stirred. Of course she'd be a light sleeper.

They both ended up in some weird stare down once she opened her eyes; ice blue in full contest with burning brown.

"Are you well?" 362 asked, her words hoarse from sleep. She selectively ignored the weird position they were both in and it was relieving. This was kind of awkward. Her voice was groggy and broken; she sounded less like a robot and more like a real girl.

He held his tongue despite the headache. "Better than before."

"I'll leave now you're sober then. I suggest rest," she said neutrally, but the way those brown eyes narrowed a fraction, literally accusing him of lying, alarmed him. It shouldn't have been that easy to figure out.

"It's a really, _really _long walk back to your quarters," he realized. "Your stuff didn't transfer to this wing yet."

She shifted uncomfortably in his grip now she seemed more coherent and their closeness was obvious. Already she started putting up walls, but he didn't know why now. "I will manage."

"Looking messed up like that? Just stay here for a while." Why did he keep pressing the issue? Perhaps it was a justifying of appearances. Numbuh 362 didn't seem the type to show weakness in public, nor look anything less than composed. "That's an order."

Maybe it was that… _cold compassion_ or whatever and it was rubbing off on him. It's just not everyday someone would take a _broccoli_ for you.

To his surprise, she slowly nodded and accepted his words, though he had a sneaking suspicion it was most likely due to sleep deprivation than his charm.

As soon as he released her shoulders, she turned away from him and busied herself toeing off her boots and setting them aside with a neatness befitting her character. Her movements more robotic than usual and he suspected it was the sleep deprivation again.

"I will sleep on the couch," she said over her shoulder and disappeared behind the divider.

That was that. She left no argument offering her his bed.

For the first time in a while, he tossed childish scowl at her back. He had never felt so irritated over one person. Irritated and curious; a volatile combination for someone like him.

When he found sanctuary in his bed, his mind would always constantly whir in the background before it petered off the further he fell into REM sleep. Instead of the usual haziness of impending paperwork, he thought about 362 and why she didn't just dump the spiked beverage instead of drinking it.

They say nonsensical dreams are a clever way for the mind to solve everyday problems. Before he forgot it the following morning, he found himself tied up and drowning in a sea of pink soda for what seemed like hours. When he was ready to give up struggling and succumb to its sugary depths did he finally break through the surface. Then terror gripped his chest when he found himself floating on Numbuh 362's unconscious form.

"If you can't trust someone who'd poison themselves for you," those pale lips whispered before he woke up in a cold sweat. "Who could you trust really?"


	2. Act 1: The Binary Stars Dance

**A/N: **This chapter mentions the fic _Shatter Me_, which is 362's origin story for this canon. It's an optional read.

* * *

_**History is written by the victors.**_

**I never realized the impact of those words until now. It may even be the absolute truth. Who's to say down the line that the Kids Next Door will always remain on the right side of history?**

**There was never a moment where my mind can just 'shut off' like others. It was always constantly thinking; always planning on gaining the upper hand. She often noted this, but I never gave it much thought. Ironic, isn't it?**

**Maybe this was why I was chosen. There were so many variables to think about; always an unfinished tangent that needed to be solved. It reflected in my command and in turn ran an efficiency that hadn't been seen in this organization since Numbuh Zero himself.**

**When the opportunity to go further than the limit revealed itself, I hadn't thought twice before I accepted. Maybe I should have.**

**It never escaped me that I should have thought much more about taking Infinity's hand but, like history, only the victors can rewrite it now.**

**And I've known for a long time that I wasn't meant to be a hero or a victor.**

It was to be four days of this desperation. Four entire days of this flickering darkness; darkness that was the natural enemy of nearly half of his operatives. It caused a mild mass hysteria in the aftermath.

Weeks after Numbuh 362's promotion as his XO, her former job as Head of Operations had been vacant and he was foolish enough to trust the brass up top. Their newest recommendation birthed itself through favoritism than actual worth.

The new HO, who was more familiar with handling a weapon than filing paperwork, ended up causing all sorts of bureaucratic hell for Moonbase. Sectors on Earth turned into a scramble trying to decode the wrong transmissions and the scheduling had been so chaotic entire sectors had to be ground to a halt to avoid any further complications.

The backlog was so bad even Numbuh 3 ended up rolling her sleeves and organized two important hamster vet screenings without a hiccup, no pun intended, which earned her an accolade for going above and beyond the bureaucratic order.

When you're getting one upped by _Kuki Sanban_ of all people, perhaps it was high time for a demotion.

Numbuh 274 was still receiving complaints about the scheduling conflicts by the end of the week. Sector C threatened a week long walk off after flying three of their best squads to Australia when orders meant for them to head for _Austria_.

Cultural differences aside, the Chinese Kids Next Door had no patience for ineptitude. That reflected upon their Supreme Leader who let the monstrosity that was Numbuh 1678 in charge of Operations.

Before he could order Numbuh 362 to either fire 1678 or tutor him before disaster struck, they were too late to salvage now dubbed the _Hamster Holiday Clustershuck._

Instead of rotating the days for each sector of hamsters, Operations had somehow scheduled them for a vacation by _continent_ instead of countries. Not only was every sector plus Moonbase ended up drastically short on power, but Sector J ended up overrun by partying rodents.

"Is it too late to convert to water power?" he had groaned on his throne by the end of the first day of darkness. The massive headache crept between his eyebrows when the loud emergency generator died for the eleventh time today. Panicked department heads with important tasks continued to arrive in droves to further complain about the lack of power, so Numbuh 274 diverted all inquiries to Numbuh 74.239, who should be in charge of power conservation, not him.

His personal assistants were close to a mental breakdown themselves dividing up Numbuh 362's duties as XO. She was still deep within the bowels of pocket protectors and unnecessary paperwork desperately helping to pick up the slack and no doubt wishing she didn't take the promotion as they sufficiently destroyed all her hard work down there.

If he hadn't received periodic communications from her within the last couple of hours, he would have already assumed that she had drowned in the aftermath. Fortunately, it was not the case, but he penned a note of grieving for next of kin beforehand just in case.

She didn't think it was funny when he told her about it during their short lunch together.

The overhead lights on the command deck kept flickering in an uneven cadence with the pounding in his head. Efficiency was key to his success; to see his tight base limping due to bureaucratic oversight made him gnash his teeth together. His commands were even devolving the longer he was on deck. He spent his last minutes on shift snapping his orders to his already tired PA's and he couldn't even muster the energy to apologize for it like usual.

The complainers evened out as night fell on the American eastern seaboard. Numbuh 274 rubbed the bridge of his nose and silently thanked Zero for putting most of the adult villains out on holiday; it was a secret courtesy of KND Intelligence of course. Moonbase was practically limping with this lack of power and the Arctic Base went silent a few hours ago to conserve energy. Any attacks made now from their enemies would be their disadvantage.

According to Sector J, in their usual tardiness with reporting, the hamsters refused to return to their posts until their long deserved vacation completed. That pushed their schedules further back and 274 ordered free shuffleboard coupons for the vacationing villains to stretch them through the week.

It was already 2400 by the time he his shift ended. By protocol, he had to remain on the floor until the Moonbase was in its optimal state, which wouldn't be for quite some time, but even their Chief Medical Operative ordered him off for sleep. Before closing down the main comm, he had received reports that things down in Operations were tentatively getting reorganized. Apparently they had been crying and running around before 362 arrived and cracked that infamous whip of hers to get them back on track.

He allowed himself a smirk. Numbuh 362's patented 'cold compassion' now at official use as an XO. He almost wished he were there to see it.

Still, the lack of power also meant Moonbase had to be generous funneling their emergency generators of gerbils, which meant high-security floors like KND Intelligence's Archives had to be powered down in intervals to share the small wealth. And, rather curious at what dirt the folks upstairs dug up about him, he took his mandatory break to visit when the power traded off to the Hot Labs.

And boy did they have the dirt on him. There were even vid shots of him harmlessly flirting with a bunch of engineers from two years ago. With a grimace, he closed the picture of himself wearing the stupid Boy Scout uniform he wore back in the day and spent the next hour looking through many files.

Numbuh 1 almost had an entire filing cabinet in his honor but 274 found himself too lazy to look through it. Some were even tedious like transaction records of every Yipper card Numbuh 57 traded with or how many times Numbuh 10 brushed her hair on Tuesdays.

He had to admit they were awfully thorough. The Archives were little less like a room but an entire _floor_ filled with bookcases and filing cabinets dating back to Zero itself. Many a cadet got lost navigating the winding stacks of information; some even rumored to never escape alive.

Maybe such fears were intentional. Only specialized operatives could use full clearance of the Archives. The top brass barely had access to almost thirty percent of whatever behind lock boxes and vaults. Even his own authorization as Supreme Leader had its own limit.

Such a place often intimidated him. He just had no control over what really went on here.

His idle search reached a dead end when he went looking for Numbuh 362's hard copy, which was nonexistent. Numbuh 361 and 363 were there as clear as day in the filing cabinet, but her's was vacant, as if the number didn't exist at all.

Then it hit him. Operatives both active and former from Intelligence wouldn't keep a hard copy in the archives. It would be too easy of a security breach.

The true cache of information rested in the Archive computer, which logged anything and everything save a few decades after Zero's reign. It was because such technology didn't exist back to plug in what went on during that era, which disappointed many KND curators in his career.

He found pulling up her file on the Archive computer was impressively difficult. Sometimes the entire computer would flicker off due to the power shortage; other times it tried to phish him into a fake database. He was much too tired to play games and cheated.

Out of his pocket, he popped in the USB bypass Infinity had given him and the security dissolved like the unwrapping of a present.

_Rachel McKenzie. Codename Numbuh 362._ Blah, blah, blah, he's read this file before.

Further down, however, there was more detailed information about her that hadn't been on the hard copy Infinity gave him. Drawing on little memory, there were plenty of omissions not found in his own copy. The strange detailed things like the monthly status of her mental health and even a _psychic evaluation percentage_; these things shouldn't be standard practice for any KND physical but there it was.

It seemed like the espionage operatives took a different test than the normal ones.

According to the psych reports, Numbuh 362 had consistently proved sufficient in withstanding outside mental influences including hypnosis, visual brainwashing, and/or psychic attacks (there was a notable citation below making an example of Father's shadow powers). ESP Counselor Numbuh 13-007 encouraged a theory that being completely psy-null and a mix of emotional suppression had made 362 an optimal buffer from corruption compared to the rest of her Sector.

"A perfect manifestation of a wall against the unknown," he murmured.

Psy-null. Emotional suppression. None of these sounded like they got compiled by a _teenager_ let alone a younger operative from Intelligence. He sat back and wondered just how far Intelligence went and what they subjected their operatives to. They were the only ones outside of the Supreme Leader's jurisdiction.

All suspicious thoughts left him the further he read on. Typical things like a synopsis of her home life and a list of her schooling caught little his attention until he almost missed an attachment while scrolling down.

They shipped her off to a mental institution prior to her induction into the KND Academy.

His blue eyes widened and as if in a mad trance, he buried himself into the origin of who she was; who she would become as a KND agent.

There were clips of newspapers of the event in question which seemed to be what drew the recruiters to the stoic second-in-command. The adult journalists cited McKenzie as 'unhinged' which wasn't surprising. She had assaulted a group of model teenagers for no reason at all.

KND's version of events added more splash of color to the headlines. An operative no longer active released a testimony about his little sister attached to the altercation. She was robbed of her lunch money from these 'model' teenagers.

McKenzie's reaction was startling, almost exaggerated. With her bare hands she tore through those teenagers like they were paper despite having no experience with fist fighting. She also had no prior history of trouble making and was even a model student at her old academy, with Father as their notorious benefactor.

But the way it happened hardly made any sense. How was she able to take all of them down with no prior experience in fighting? The only viable witness, six year old Lily Sanders, recounted how easily McKenzie had throttled them.

_"It was almost as if they moved in a way she could hurt them the most. I don't know how to really describe it. It was scary and I don't remember too much. Can I go home now?"_

It left him more questions than answers. However, he had found a vital piece to her puzzle. McKenzie had been a delightfulized child; one of those poor tomatoes sent to a specialized academy and organically grown to discourage the color of childhood and embrace the grayness of adulthood early.

_Children are to be seen, never heard._ That was the credo of _The Delightfully Gifted Academy of Science and Arts_.

The KND had closed down two of those schools, but it was a hopeless endeavor; one that took too much time and resources to destabilize. Even more so, reteaching an indoctrinated child the wonders of being a kid again produced few success stories. Most were just too far gone to come back to the light of optimism, forever lost as emotionless husks without joy or wonderment.

It had been Father's true _magnum opus_. It still was.

The way Numbuh 362 acted as if she were an android with no understanding of human emotions made more sense now. And yet, it didn't slake his thirst for knowledge. No, it made things even more worse.

He didn't want to continue reading on, so he glanced at a few things here and there. After McKenzie snapped, they sent her to the nuthouse re-indoctrinate her, which made chances of saving her even more bleak. Did they snuff out that flickering light permanently? He didn't know, but he wanted to.

The file showed that when Cree was still an operative, she was tasked to find McKenzie and break her out. The KND offered asylum for that cool intellect McKenzie had been capable of and as they say, the rest was history.

_**History is written by the victors.**_

For the first time in his life, he was undecided. Everything had made sense, and it was even more confusing. He sat back in his chair and ended up staring at the screen for a good long while just wondering what to do with this precious cache of information. Should he feel pity? Anger? Confusion?

Or maybe he could feel them all at once.

What would be her true nature then if she hadn't had her childhood ripped from her so early in her life? Would she have truly been a normal girl of appropriate age? Would she have smiled, laughed, or even cried? He couldn't imagine and maybe that too was a tragedy.

He thought about her strange coldness or the way she went off on Numbuh 86 in a coiled ball of out of control flame.

She _knew_ this; she knew of what she was and there was nothing she nor anyone could do to fix it. Her passiveness was both a gift and a curse; it reigned that temper in because it was a product of oppression and the ultimate answer for her heightened emotions.

At what cost, he wondered. Why bother living when you were forced to feel nothing at all?

He understood now why Infinity recommended her. Damaged goods wasn't exactly his favorite type of girl. It made them too relatable; it made him too attached, so he usually avoided them. Most girls are hardly worth the effort to fix in his line of work. He had enough problems running the KND itself.

It was a win-win all things considered. Numbuh 362 didn't seem the type to let anyone in and would actively avoid seeking people like him out to heal her wounds. That was just fine by him. It wasn't his job anyway to fix someone else.

That didn't mean he didn't feel like a jerk about it. Chad downloaded the rest of her file to his flash drive and then turned off the Archive computer.

He reveled in the dimness of the power-starved area wishing he never found his XO's unabridged history.

* * *

Why sugar? Chad found himself hip deep in a sea of black syrup with no end in sight. He tested the viscous liquid by trying to move and found it difficult to put one foot forward.

No matter how hard he tried to squirm, he just couldn't pull out of the syrup. That was when he looked on and found his XO with her back to him above the syrup and walking away.

"Hey!" he shouted for her attention. "I'm stuck!"

She didn't turn around and kept walking, but she had to stop soon. The syrup ended over the plane to nothingness.

He grabbed one of the giant floating waffles that sludged on by and tried to use the momentum to move him quicker through the syrup to catch up with her. "Numbuh 362!" he shouted again. "Don't go that way!" But no matter how hard he tried gain speed, it was almost as if she were going two steps faster.

Before she could fall over the ledge and into a syrupy oblivion, the harsh beeping of his onboard computer startled him awake.

_It is now 0200, Supreme Leader Numbuh 274. Global Tactical Officer Numbuh 362 is in the vicinity towards the executive rooms._

He sluggishly took off the covers and examined the view-screen. Numbuh 362 looked much more closed off than usual when he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. But the way she moved looked human for once.

Despite looking dour as usual, 274 was a master at hiding exhaustion, and he knew the tell-tale signs that gave it away. The way her perfectly straightened shoulders slumped forward just a fraction and the speed of her walk was twenty percent slower than usual revealed her weakness.

She maintained this facade, knowing she would truly find solace and rest once the door and world beyond closed to her.

He didn't know why but he neglected any further sleep by retreating from the room and catching her. It felt as if once she disappeared into one of those rooms, she would never come back out again.

Maybe the discovery of her file ignited something within him, he didn't truly know.

He introduced himself by reaching behind her and holding the door to her quarters shut before she could key in the sequence. She blinked in confusion at his hand pressed against the steel frame and followed his wrist and arm until they locked eyes once more.

Time always seemed to slow when this happened. Like wading through molasses, every step was slow but deliberate between the two of them. He understood why to an extent now.

No, maybe it wasn't molasses. _Syrup._

"Commander?" she inquired softly.

"After you wake up or something, want to play a round of competitive Yipper?" he answered her question with his own. He had done his homework; her file mentioned her proficiency in competitive Yipper. She had won regional tournaments playing under a pseudonym, a common thing for girls to do to avoid harassment from entitled male players.

She wouldn't keep playing the game and going to tournaments if she didn't find a natural enjoyment for it.

Maybe that was his ulterior motive all along. He wanted to see if she can light up like a real kid. Even under the indoctrination, there had to have been a glimmer remaining there; it had to be something the KND had to have seen else they wouldn't have bothered recruiting her.

She stared at him for a long while before answering, her words hesitant. "Why?"

He had flinched, not exactly expecting the word. They weren't friends; they haven't really talked to each other outside of work in the past few weeks of her as his XO. So why?

Her dark eyes seemed reserved and strangely wary. Like no one had ever asked her for something so personal; so social.

_Damaged, _he had to remind himself. His lip curled from the dropping feeling in his gut. He opened his mouth, ready to change his mind and say '_nevermind, go do your thing_' and it would be so easy to walk away, go back to sleep, and just _forget_ it.

But she looked so worried, so unsure of his offer. She might have even believed that he was teasing her and was waiting to take the humiliating blow like the soldier she was.

The dismissive words died on his lips.

When had he ever hesitated? He charged forward, taking rightful control of his destiny. "Well, my XO needs a break from that clustershuck Operations turned into. It's logical and it... helps foster a better working relationship or something."

Those pale lips parted in surprise and her eyes, for the first time today, seemed alight with something called _life_.

The walk to recovery was of syrup, but a single step was made. That unmistakable drop in his gut which had been a product of what happened earlier today in the Archives fluttered. She had never looked at him with such openness until now.

He could easily shatter that openness with a sneer that would have send her retreating. Instead he gave her a stupid smile and if he had blinked, he would have missed the way her eyes squinted trying not to _laugh_.

Eventually the spark of light in her eyes dimmed into that unfathomable darkness when she composed herself and tentatively nodded. "Will you give me a few hours of rest?"

* * *

He had never felt so restless before in his life. It was as if they were playing Jenga and she was effortlessly pulling at all the blocks he carefully constructed, challenging him to keep everything from crashing down.

Sleep was lost to him so he reorganized his quarters. He even lowered the temperature to the specifications of her own.

When he cut his hand moving the sharp coffee table around sense returned to him. Cursing, he ran his hand under the faucet and wondered why he was tripping all over himself trying to make things comfortable for her. What was he thinking?

No, he knew exactly what he was doing. This was why he didn't personally deal with broken people. There were too many variables; too many chances of breaking an already brittle relationship.

He'd rather charge forward than walk a tightrope. The desire to fix things had always been a weak point for him.

Abandoning all pretenses of providing a haven for his XO, he instead worked at setting up the game he should have done an hour ago.

No one had truly beat him at competitive Yipper. Many of his pseudonyms won intercontinental tournaments before he phased out completely from the circuit to run Moonbase.

He had an excited feeling that, given 362's private history, she thrived at high-stakes games. It had been much too long since he's had good competition.

She arrived an hour later, looking freshly showered and wearing KND fatigues instead of her uniform. Did she ever wear any personal clothing that wasn't work related, he wondered, and wordlessly allowed her inside.

"Drink?" he offered. She nodded and settled herself on the couch, the place mat already set up on the coffee table. He hovered in question by the divider, watching her study the table. She was already strategizing before she answered quietly.

"Anything but soda."

Numbuh 274 snorted before he disappeared and returned with something other than water. "This okay?" He offered her a box with a bright green apple on the label.

She nodded again, politely accepted the drink, and returned to shuffling her cards.

Competitive Yipper wasn't commonplace. Most kids merely used the barter and trade system to collect Yipper cards instead of using them in competition. The creator intentionally did this by creating complicated and often harsh rules hoping to nurture serious progression tournaments for the hardcore.

If he wanted to have Yipper taken seriously, he shouldn't have picked a younger demographic, in 274's opinion.

One of these most infamous rules, _All or Nothing_, was brutal enough for casual players to either disregard the rule completely in local tournaments or turn them away. If you lost your card to a direct attack, the attacker rightfully won that card. It was a double-edged sword he had exploited for many good cards in his professional campaign, so much so that many didn't seek his pseudonyms out so much for a match anymore.

Despite that being public information at Numbuh 362's fingertips, she hadn't declined the offer.

The lights were noticeably dim due to conserving power, but it was bright enough for them to set up the starter round and begin.

Whichever assault he tried to put down, she meticulously altered and changed her strategy to best counter his. Her cards weren't as powerful as his, but she made up for it by exploiting effects and stealing legit turns to bolster her defense.

It was aggravating, but it was extremely attractive by how she played. It was elegant and merciless. Her tact danced around his powerful punches and she stole a good number of his wins through manipulation rather than force.

The cool air slowly ignited between them. It turned into a meticulous struggle of one-upping each others' strategy. For every type he combated, she sought weaknesses to bolster defense at the cost of offense.

When she had defeated and claimed his second favorite card as her own, Chad realized that he needed to stop playing around and dig through her defenses turns later.

By sacrificing his decoy cards into her possession, he toppled the key card she had been carefully building up. He let out a small yell for pulling it off and pumped his fist. "Yes!"

Her eyes widened a fraction and her mouth parted in surprise when he picked up her once prized card as his own. "Ah!"

"_Ah_?" he teased and placed the card face down on the captured pile. "If that was a gasp, I'm humbled."

She frowned, but her attention remained solely on the field. It gave him the chance to take a breather and sit back. Her next strategy might take some time by how deep she appeared in concentration.

"You play a mean game of Yipper, Numbuh 362," he admitted softly.

Her gaze flickered to his weary posture and then returned to the board. "Do you wish your cards returned at the end of the game?"

"Are you pitying me?" he raised an eyebrow. "The game's not even over and I've been eyeing your #34 card for quite some time."

When her lips curled up in that small smile, he felt like he had accomplished something great. "You must work to secure the card then. I have no intention of losing that one to you."

Numbuh 274's lazy smile turned into a competitive grin. "Well now I _have _to take it from you. A matter of pride and all."

"_Pride_," she repeated, her voice thick with sarcasm as she elegantly placed two cards down. "I've decided on my next move. Prepare your counterattack, Supreme Leader sir."

"_Chad_," he corrected and leaned forward again to examine the board. "You've got some of my best cards through tact. I think it's safe to say you've earned the right to call me that."

She blinked in mild surprise. There was an unsure look about her before she resigned herself under his heavy look. She then was determined to stare at nothing else but the board. "Ah."

"Another gasp? Ha, think I can call you McKenzie?" he half-teased, finding delight in watching her slight shoulders start in alarm. "Or maybe _Rachel_?" He found his voice deepened mentioning that forbidden name. This time he couldn't ignore the trill of pleasure shooting up his spine when a noticeable flush rose up the side of her pale throat.

"You are my superior," she answered with such hesitation, Chad was almost sure she was trying to cover for something. "You may call me whatever you wish."

Another shot of electricity ran up his back. "I want to call you Rachel in private," he replied, his throat dry, "but you don't have to call me by my name if you don't want to." Just because he wanted to be personal with her didn't mean he'd force her to do the same.

He was after all a gentleman.

That far away look in those dark eyes meant she was carefully considering the breach in protocol, probably wondering if this was a step too far in fraternization. The way she wrapped her arms around her stomach was as if she was trying to hide from him. He might have done something wrong asking too early.

Regardless, he waited patiently for an answer. Then, after a moment, she unwound herself; her fingers curled under her chin in deliberation. It was mesmerizing to watch her think.

"Okay," she murmured to the cards. "_Numbuh 274_."

She had such a way of dodging the important questions. Chad had fought the urge to snort.

By the end of the session, they secured a good number of cards from each other. Chad examined what seemed to be one-third of his deck comprising her captured cards and probably almost vice versa on her side.

He quietly mourned the loss of Yipper card #79. It had been an artifact from one of the most gruesome semifinals he had ever played in his campaign, but true to his word, he cinched her #34.

Rachel had been carefully placing her winning cards in a separate container which he had appreciated. Most players often treated their opponent's cards like trash in some weird show of dominance.

"I will take care of your cards until you can earn them back," she said.

Then again, he wasn't surprised the slightest that she treated things with respect. It didn't even feel like he lost his cards, rather, she was holding onto them until next time.

Did that mean she wanted a rematch then? He looked up at her in mild surprise and she nodded when he asked.

"Unless... you do not wish to play again?" she looked down at her clasped hands, her words hesitant. Was she afraid that he'd say no because she won some of his prized cards?

He reassured her doubts with a grin. "Are you kidding? You gave me a good run for my money. I'd be stupid not to re-challenge you."

She didn't smile, but he could tell how her shoulders relaxed she was beaming with pleasure.

* * *

Days later, they had no choice but to hash out a plan to bring the hamsters back early when negotiations fell through. While she offered using white lies to bring the little furballs running back, he himself was bitter enough to suggest they just toss the little upstarts altogether and breed a gerbil army.

They did both.

He admired her cold professional approach with the backdrop of the lazy Jamaican beach side when she exited the shuttle. Numbuh 1-Love ordered one of his operatives to give her a smoothie which she politely declined. The massive hamster population hardly noticed her; they were too busy filling up the large pool and partying.

"By order of Supreme Leader Numbuh 274, he has made a decree for the hamsters employed in all sectors of KND," she said loudly for their attention, but only a few hamsters listened. One of them prepared to launch a spray of soda at her, but a cold glare caused it to squeak in alarm and run off. "You will not listen to your commanding officer's decree? Very well.

She turned, only to find one of the hamsters chattering and tugging on her leg for her attention. With a nod, she knelt down and held out a piece of paper for it to 'read' off of.

"By order of Supreme Leader Numbuh 274," she repeated, "all talks of negotiations about fixing the mix up regarding your vacation times have dissolved as you refused a compromise. You are all forth with decommissioned from KND service. Any sectors you may have belonged to have been re-purposed for the gerbil population, who have generously offered their services in powering the treehouses."

Many of the hamsters around her fell silent. Some even looked at each other in alarm.

"Further more," she continued, "because of their services beyond the call of duty in the last few days, your owners have agreed that having a gerbil instead of a hamster would be less trouble to take care of. Your designated Hamster Specialists have disposed of your belongings and living space to prepare for our new gerbil comrades. Please enjoy your vacation in Sector J as long as you wish. It is part of your severance package."

That caused an uproar of hamster proportions. Hundreds of thousands of furballs whined and panicked; some were running around in circles unable to understand and few began to even beg for forgiveness in their little hamster mumble speak. Before 362 could walk away, they all moved into neat little rows of silent obedient hamsters, aligning themselves by sector to make it easier for her to roll call.

The orange hamster that tugged on her leg earlier tossed the soda can away and saluted her.

Acknowledging them, she stood up and patiently placed her hands behind her back. "I see you are not pleased by the decree. If you are all that determined, I suppose the decree can be reversed." They let out a roar of joy when she tore the decree in half and they piled themselves into their designated ships for disembarkation.

From his throne on Moonbase, Numbuh 274 ended the transmission and laughed.


	3. Act 2: The Honey Trap

**Dreams are the gateway to an absolute truth or an absolute lie.**

**Whether you dream or not, the mind is always constant. The moment it stops the turning of its gears is the final breath you'll ever make.**

**But dreams can be confusing, even bizarre. How could you take anything from those fleeting images if you can't realistically apply them?**

**Maybe dreams are just the visual flavor of your emotions, a glimpse of your innermost fear.**

They were quickly developing a routine after the day was over and done with on the command deck.

Numbuh 362 would patiently wait for her replacement to come and exit the deck first. Once he was relieved he would follow that very same route and find her waiting for him at the end of the hallway, sometimes on her tablet to check on her reports. Though sometimes if he could catch her unawares, he'd find her playing Bubble Shooter and then deny it when he would tease her later on.

With a lazy smile, he caught up to her and was disappointed to find her actually working instead of playing a game on her tablet. Without a single word they headed for the operative quarters together. It was a wonder how setting up something as simple as game night would easily have them attached to the hip so quickly.

"Up for another game tonight?" he asked and lightly bumped shoulders with her. In the beginning she would normally stiffen, not normally used to a companionship that involved intruding on personal space at a whim; even more so he was a boy. Such a thing would be unheard of for a child raised to be Delightful.

"If you are not exhausted, I would not mind," she answered softly and relaxed with his shoulder occasionally bumping against hers. "You were complaining about a stiff neck earlier today."

It was almost eerie how much she could glean off him and still look so disinterested. "I wouldn't mind a backrub if that's what you're implying," he said impishly and watched the base of her neck flush.

"I am not qualified for that," she responded shortly, "but I will requisition one of the physical therapists down in medical to assist you if your back is bothering you."

"Ever the romantic." His sarcastic tease made her sniff with light disdain.

Maybe that was why he found her so compelling. The back and forth between them was becoming less of a test to see how far they could press into each others' territory and more of a banter. It was like a secret handshake or a recently born language that was quickly growing in vocabulary between them.

Every Thursday was competitive Yipper depending on if either of them were busy. Then it became Tuesdays alongside Thursdays once Operations could finally make their schedules parallel. From there they quickly moved to random board games designated for combat strategy like _Battleship_ and even chess once Rachel patiently helped him understand the pieces and strategies.

But it was _Risk_ that was quickly became his favorite game. It was one of those rare times where he could really see Rachel become frustrated outside of work.

When he mentioned it by the time they reached his door, Rachel gave him a look that spoke volumes of exasperation.

"It would be wise to play with an extra player for Risk," she said dryly. "You often attack the neutral territory for the sake of a greater advantage."

"You're just mad because I thought of it first," he shot right on back and punched in his access code. "Maybe if you did the same…"

Her response would have been insulting to anyone else. "Not all of us have a lousy sense of tact."

A bark of laughter left his throat, but it tapered off quickly when he was held back from entering with her outstretched arm. The warm spark in her eyes were replaced with that suspicious coldness as she peered into the darkness of his quarters.

Her suspicions were justified. He never left his quarters with lights down to ten percent. Immediately they both separated and lined their backs against the wall for cover. By the time he was unhooking his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R., Rachel was already armed with a S.P.I.C.E.R. and alight with an ammunition of chili peppers. They took turns peering in every so often for movements inside.

_"The door was locked,"_ he mouthed to her, but she shook her head. She would not take the chance while unarmed.

She tilted her head around the frame of the door and shouted, "Anyone in there?"

"You're surrounded!" he yelled. They both jumped and tumbled through the door, armed and ready for confrontation. "BATTLESTATIONS!"

"Eek!" A voice squeaked out and retreated from the safety of his divider, her hands up in surrender. "Please don't shoot!"

He lowered the barrel of his weapon from his PA's terrified face. "Numbuh 702?"

Numbuh 702 looked small and disconcerted on his couch while his XO interrogated her for information. "I didn't mean to make any trouble, sir!" she pouted and stared at her locked knees, "I was just told to put the incense in the Supreme Leader's personal quarters."

"Incense?" Curious, he paced around his quarters looking for any foreign object that didn't belong. His search was a success when he found a beautifully carved rectangular box sitting on the end table next to his bed. Little puffs of smoke lazily floated out of the carvings.

He cautiously sniffed at the air and found the scent of something floral, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact flower. Botany wasn't exactly his strongest suit.

Picking up the smoking box, he returned to his living room and set it down on the coffee table. Numbuh 362 eyed it with suspicion.

"This it?" he asked.

Numbuh 702 nodded eagerly. "Yes! Numbuh 911 said you were having trouble sleeping and recommended this incense box. It's all the rage these days."

Numbuh 362 thoughtfully placed her knuckles under her chin. He didn't know why, but he liked the way she curled her fingers like that. It was sophisticated. "Aromatherapy isn't exactly true medical science. It's strange that 911 would suggest such a thing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Aromawhatsit?"

"Aromatherapy!" 702 repeated helpfully. "They're scents that's supposed to do different things like calm you down or make you happy. Everyone on the command deck has one of these."

That was news to him. He looked to his XO for verification only to receive a little shake of her head. She was just as out of the loop as he was.

702 continued to explain about Moonbase Medical's strange new fascination with aromatherapy and they had been given them away like they were candy.

During 702's explanation, Numbuh 362 had retreated to the control panel on the side of his door and examined it before glancing back at 274. "I will contact Numbuh 911 tomorrow and reprimand her for giving away her emergency medical override without proper authorization."

"It was her code you used?" he asked 702, who looked rightly chastened before nodding. "That doesn't sound like her. If she really wanted me to use that aroma junk she could have just contacted me directly instead."

702 helplessly shrugged. "I was just following the Chief Medical Operative's orders, sir."

Rachel stiffly returned to Chad's side and icily dismissed his PA without cause to report her for following orders. 702 happily ran out of his room and he ordered his lights back up to sixty percent.

"Well now, aren't you turning into a softy," he lightly teased. "I was almost afraid I'd have to step in if you threatened to court martial her."

Her gaze remained fixed on the incense box. "She had done her job. Numbuh 911 is the one at fault."

He shrugged and headed past the divider for the board game. "I suggest going easy on the old lady. She'll be thirteen in two months. Might be that preteen new age junk she got her hands on."

"Regardless," he heard her say. The _Risk_ box under his arm, he found her sitting in her usual spot on the couch, waiting for him. Except instead of gazing up at him, her attention was focused on the incense box. She finally looked up when he placed the game on the table. "Do you still wish on keeping this?" she gestured to the incense box.

"Why? Do you want it?" She shook her head when he picked the wooden box up and tossed it onto an empty cushion. "Well I can't throw it away," he continued with a cheeky grin. "Doctor's orders, you know."

Setting up the game felt longer than usual, at least to him. Rachel made no comment about it, though he found her brow furrowed in quiet worry.

They were barely starting the third turn when he forgot what play he wanted to use. It had been a good one; it would have secured a good chunk of the Middle East in his favor.

After a long moment of frustration trying to recall the tactic, he gave up and skipped his turn, something he had never done before. That was what caused Rachel to finally pop an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you alright, Numbuh 274?"

She called him by his number. He smiled at that. "Just trying to give you an advantage for once, Rachel."

There was that tell-tale stiffening of her shoulders, but her lips quirked up a fraction. "Unnecessary. You will no doubt regret that decision."

Maybe playing so quickly after shift had not been the best idea. His eyes felt so heavy and he could feel his limbs move so sluggishly. Before he could even consider impeding on Rachel's territory on the East Asian seaboard, he stirred awake by something brushing at his hair on the back of his head.

With a start, he jerked himself away from the coffee table he had napped on and looked up to find Rachel hovering above, her dark eyes unreadable. "Is it my turn?" he murmured, shrugging off his surprise before yawning.

"We are pausing the game," she said quietly. "You have been in and out of sleep the entire time."

Her hand was retreating, but he found himself unable to let those warm fingers stop from massaging the base of his skull. He turned his head towards the touch and, with a internal yell of triumph, those fingers returned to explore and temper away the stiffness at the base of his neck.

She allowed him this treat for a minute which almost made him doze off for real this time. It was only when her touch disappeared did he snap out of some strange trance he found himself in and her quiet urging for him to go to bed.

He dreamed that he was strung up in a humiliating pose. His hands and feet were wrapped in shining silver wire that spanned upward, but no matter how far he looked up, there was no end in sight to the string.

His skin chilled and he tried to move his limbs, but to no avail. He was left hanging a few feet above the ground; the stage was empty save the polished wooden floor and the lone overhead spotlight on him.

After what seemed like hours, the wire slackened and he fell hard on the wooden floor, bruising his knees. Before he could even gasp in pain, the wire quickly grew taut again and his limbs went whichever way the puppet master forced him. There was no laughter, but he couldn't help the tears prickle in the corners of his eyes from the humiliation and the fear of his lost control.

He woke up with a start at 0400, but he had no recollection of why.

* * *

The next day, 274 found his XO true to her word and reprimanding Numbuh 911 when he went in for his routine physical before shift.

"You are aware that there are protocols in place that prevent operatives except for the chain of command from entering the Supreme Leader's personal quarters?"

"Blah, blah, blah, sir. You sound like my etiquette teacher." Numbuh 911 was a tall, statuesque beauty with long flowing brown curls and gray eyes that turned many an operative for a second look passing her by.

He leaned against the sliding door and watched them bicker with a smile, praising Zero for girls and their early growth spurts.

Though it was hardly unfair for poor 362, who was much too short to tower impressively over their CMO, and was as much of a stunner as a block of ice in Antarctica. She made up for it in the eyes though, a burning reddish brown that reminded him of the polished rosewood floors his family's timeshared winter cabin had plenty of. That perfect posture and dignified attitude came in a set.

Their preteen CMO continued to politely smile at 362 and crossed her legs. "As soon as I found the perfect blend of oils for our Supreme Leader's current mental afflictions, I wasted no time installing it in his room. I would have done it myself but, as you know, it's always swamped here. Just an hour ago we finally patched up Sectors C, K, and V after Knightbrace got a hold of them. Six hours de-wiring braces off over half of them. A little leeway for sending his PA over instead would be appreciated."

He flinched when she mentioned _wiring_.

Numbuh 362 inspected 911 carefully, almost suspiciously, before placing her hands behind her back. "Then a warning will suffice seeing as no harm came of it," she said. "But this aromatherapy nonsense you're sending out..."

"Uh-uh," 911 wagged a finger at her. "With all due respect sir, aromatherapy is a legit form of medicine..."

"_Alternative_," 362 interrupted. "Alternative medicine isn't a proven science for curing anything."

The older girl chuckled. "My, my, someone's finally doing their homework on the chain of command. You're a former Intelligence operative, so I expected nothing less." She uncrossed her legs and sauntered to her feet. "Regardless, aromatherapy isn't harmful. Most of us have been on this lifeless rock for so long we forget we're Earthlings. We need organic things like lavender and chamomile to soothe our minds and reduce space madness for the little initiates."

Straightening her pristine white lab coat, she pulled a wooden box similar to his from a cabinet and handed it to 362. "Try it out for yourself and see if it will loosen that infamously straight spine you've got there, Global Tactical Officer. Even you don't have to act like you've got a stick up your bum all the..."

He coughed loudly. They both turned and finally noticed him. "Hope I'm not interrupting," he grinned and pushed himself from the door.

362 nodded and politely retreated with the incense box though he had a sneaking feeling she was only leaving to dispose of it before returning to her post. He hopped on one of the beds and reluctantly surrendered himself to his Chief Medical Operative's questions. "Let's get this show over with, shall we?"

"Is it really so bad?" 911 smiled over her shoulder. She drew up his file on her tablet and sat down in front of him, stylus poised over the screen. "So, how are the dreams so far?"

He shrugged. "Didn't have one last night."

She hummed and tapped on the screen. "Interesting. Were you using the incense box before you went to sleep last night?"

Something strange flickered in his gut. Like he was missing something vitally important but didn't know what. "It was smoking if that's what you mean. We left it in the living room though."

"We?"

He shifted in his seat and snorted. "You know what I mean. My XO and I had our nightly board games the past few weeks."

911 looked at him peculiarly and then placed the stylus on her lap. "I had no idea you two have been growing close for so long."

"Don't you mean you're surprised that Numbuh 362 can socialize?" he teased. "Because she can."

* * *

Numbuh 702 hadn't been kidding. When he arrived on deck almost everyone had a small incense box at their workstations. He opened his mouth, almost ready to chastise them for polluting the sterile air with their aroma nonsense, but the smell of lavender and chamomile lulled at his senses.

Forgetting what he wanted to say entirely, he instead sat on his throne and got to work.

The only ones who didn't seem to have an incense on them were himself and Numbuh 362, who approached him for her daily report. It should have been as easy as breathing listening to the going ons of his base, but he drifted off and daydreamed of random things until pain struck his ear. "OW!" he cried out and pressed a hand to his ear. The deck didn't even turn to see what was going on.

Numbuh 362 looked at him with little amusement. Her fingers were poised in a flicking motion near his face from where she got him on the ear.

"Pay attention, Supreme Leader sir."

"I am!" he snapped, though it lacked any actual anger. He grabbed her hand before she could try and flick him again. "You're not still mad about what happened down in Medical, are you?"

"I am not," she said curtly and pulled away from his grasp. "But your attention has been lacking. Do you remember a single thing I have said in my report?"

He scoffed. "Of course I do! You..." No, no he didn't. Realization hit him hard and his hazy blue eyes flickered in panic before he internally grabbed a hold of himself. This wasn't like him. Not at all. "I guess I wasn't," he said apologetically. "Sorry about that."

Those dark eyes of hers flashed with something he couldn't comprehend before she handed him her tablet and returned to her workstation.

That really sucked. Having her read out the report and teasing her large vocabulary was usually one of the high points of his day.

* * *

"Have you ever considered simplifying the way you speak?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Numbuh 274 caught up with 362 during break. Usually he skipped mid-dinner traffic in favor of a quieter one in the late hours but the incense wafting thickly on his command deck was giving him a headache so he sought an escape. Much to his displeasure, some of the operatives brought their incense boxes with them, rendering his whole escape plan moot.

He wrinkled his nose at them and made to grab a can of soda only for his XO to slap it away in favor of juice. "It's just one can of soda," he protested.

"One which will no doubt keep you wired until after shift when you crash," she said, closing the matter. He didn't even realize he was checking her every so often for approval with what he should take on his tray. Thankfully, she didn't deprive him of a slice of red velvet cake. She gave him a non-committal shrug of her shoulder when he showed it to her, his not-pout telling her to cave in. "You were saying something about my speech earlier."

"I was just making note of the crew on deck the last few days," he continued when they arrived at Numbuh Change-For-A-$20's station. "I've got no problem understanding you, but the little ones can't even spell 'antiquity' let alone know what it means."

The burly operative punched up the totals from his old-fashioned cash register. Despite the recent technological switch to digital, the Cafeteria Head still refused to switch to digital. It was one of the few peeves that annoyed Numbuh 362.

Numbuh 274 grinned when Rachel frowned at the rusty old tin can called a cash register, but made no complaint about it when she had him put it on her tab.

"It's hard," she admitted quietly when they departed for their usual table next to the wall length windows overlooking the Earth rise. It was vacant for the most part as it was notable for causing motion sickness for certain operatives whenever they looked out the window.

They've long since learned to either look at one cluster of stars to avoid motion sickness or focus on each other. These days it was mostly the latter.

"Hard?" he feigned confusion, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Hard. I'm used to specifying my actions and taught to use more complex word structures," she frowned again and focused on her tray. "You would become penalized for using slang or ridiculed for simplifying the language."

He twisted his plate of spaghetti with his fork. "Did you learn from that private school you went to?"

She paused for a long moment, her cheeks burning with humiliation and fear. "Something like that."

He knew of her secret fear. She was afraid that if he knew she was delightfulized, he would probably toss her out of airlock or something. But he believed that she could be saved. He was almost sure of it.

"I'm an efficient guy," he began, blue eyes locking with brown. "You know that. Like I said before I can understand you just fine. It's just the little ones. Most of them aren't exactly reading past the fourth grade level to be honest. Numbuh 4's reading comprehension for instance brought the KND's reading average dragging to the floor this year."

"I know that," she quietly sighed and paused from cutting her sandwich in half when he raised an eyebrow at her. With another aggravated exhaled puff of air, she set her knife and fork down and picked up the entire sandwich with her bare hands.

He grinned. "Good girl. You'll see what I mean. Simplify a few words and you'll see the difference. Like 'I apologize'? Say 'I'm sorry' instead. Not only will they understand, but they'll read you as more sincere."

Rachel bit her lip. "Because it's more personal."

"Exactly!" he nodded and made his point by pointing his fork at her, a faux pas itself that made her frown with disapproval at him. "Table manners aren't needed here. You draw too much suspicion for it. That's why no one approaches you after hours. They're afraid of you criticizing them!"

She tilted her head. "_You_ have approached me after hours though."

"...well, when you say it that way," he cleared his throat and folded his arms, deciding that the visual of Earth out the window was far more interesting than his XO. "I mean, you're my XO."

"Very perceptive."

"And we're friends, aren't we? I think that's..." he turned and found her as white as a sheet and gripping the table hard. "Numbuh 362? What's wrong...?"

He jumped when she abruptly stood up from her seat, her form shaking. "Please excuse me, Supreme Leader sir," she whispered and did everything but bolt from the cafeteria, leaving her tray of food behind.

* * *

He was back on that stage again bound by silver string.

This time the red curtain rose and he found his XO standing in front of him, bound and blindfolded like a prisoner waiting for a beheading. No words came when he shouted her name. Instead another wire came out of nowhere and wrapped itself tightly around his throat. With a strangled cry, he tried to claw at the wire but it seemed to be a part of him now.

"Prove that I am in control," a hypnotic disembodied voice rang from the empty seats of the theater.

From above the lights and curtains, a S.P.I.C.E.R. descended slowly, and the sound of clapping can be heard. It was the climax of the act.

He fought against his binding but he couldn't stop the wire from pulling his hand out and taking the weapon. Horror replaced humiliation when Numbuh 362 was forcibly pulled towards him and forced onto her knees. The crowd let out a bated breath. The hand holding the gun shook.

"You know what to do," the voice in his head was smiling.

_No. Back off!_

The wire around his throat tightened, nearly stealing his breath. Rachel let out a shuddering sigh and moved her head up in confusion. "Chad," she whispered in a half-sob. "I'm scared."

He felt his thumb click off the safety over Rachel's shaking form, but he was the one trembling the most._ I won't let you control me! You think you can use me?!** Numbuh 274?!**_

He woke up sweating, but like last time, couldn't recall the reason for it.

* * *

Numbuh 362 was avoiding him the next day, but he glimpsed her on the Leda deck in what looked to be an animated conversation with Sector V's leader, Numbuh 1. The way they stood close, obviously keeping tabs on letting their secret words to each other be heard by no one but themselves, angered 274. She'd be friends with the notoriously crazy Numbuh 1, but heaven forbid she could ever be chummy with her _Supreme Leader_.

The permeating incense in the air seemed to exacerbate his already foul mood. He turned on his heel and left the opposite way.

Throughout the day the thick lavender and chamomile smoke only seemed to get worse. When he ordered the command deck free of those incense boxes, he was met with glares and complaints, and he was considering tossing the whole lot of them out of airlock for insubordination. The boxes, he meant, but throwing the operatives out was a close second.

After spending the last couple of hours imbibing the sickeningly sweet air, he wordlessly left the throne and escaped to his quarters before he nearly fell over from dizziness. The first thing on his agenda was getting rid of the box in his own personal quarters. It was his last safe haven he refused to be invaded by flowery crud.

He was halfway to tossing it into the trash when he felt heavy and fell over, trapped under the heady smoke.

Sight, sound, touch; everything was blurred and hazy. Someone turned him on his back. A faint, wafting scent of something warm hit his nostrils but he couldn't conjure up a name for the smell.

_Prove that I am in control._

He grabbed the thin wrist pressed against his shoulder hard and felt the muscles there flex in alarm. The owner of the wrist attempted to call his codename, but everything sounded muffled. All that was clear, all he could concentrate on, was the voice in his head urging him. He squeezed the wrist in an iron grip and the owner let out a quiet gasp of pain, but he wouldn't let up.

Numbuh 274 shoved the intruder off of him and they crashed onto the metal floor with a feminine yelp. In a madness, he crawled after her and sat on her stomach, trapping the intruder. He heard another short gasp no doubt from the crushing weight and called out to him again.

_You know what to do._

"Numbuh 274," the voice beneath him stuttered out. "You need to wake up!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he snarled at the voice in his head. "You think you can control me?! _ME?!_ NUMBUH 274?!"

The last thing he remembered was the sudden explosion of that warm fragrance coming from the intruder and the pain that erupted on the side of his temple before he blacked out completely.

What a humiliating way to die. Death by aromatherapy and a blow to the head.

When he came to, there was the whirring sound of the air conditioning. The cool air lifted the heated smoke until he could breathe nothing but purified air.

No, not just pure air. There was that something sweet from before, one he could readily recognize now that his head was clearing up. It was like honey and buttermilk.

Chad opened his eyes and found himself on his couch. Rachel was hovering over him, her features concerned, as he gasped and inhaled the clear air. "Why do I have the sudden urge to eat you?" he asked nonsensically.

"It's alright," she changed the subject, cheeks dusted with pink. "I've dispos- got rid of the box." Her fingers pressed against the side of his pounding temple, almost apologetic, and no doubt the cause of the residual pain there. It didn't bother him as much as it should, not when her fingers were lightly treading through his hair, keeping him in that between consciousness and not.

"What's going on?" he murmured. "The incense boxes..."

Her fingers paused in the middle of grazing his scalp, her eyes guarded. "Numbuh 911 was... overzealous. Or, overeager, in proving herself to the wrong people. The boxes were gifts from our teenage enemies designed to hypnotize the breathers. It seems you were one of the rare few who had almost an allergic response for it to completely alter your mind."

Her words stirred action within him. He tried to get up only to be pushed down again. "Stop, I gotta... the command deck..."

"The command deck is fine. Sector MD has brought the hazmat team in to rid of the boxes and Sector V has been dealing with the conflicts that have come from it. Do you remember Cree Lincoln?"

His eyes darkened. "She had a hand in it?" His anger dissipated once that hand returned and he almost purred. Almost.

"Something like that," she continued. "According to Numbuh 5's report, she overheard her sister offering Numbuh 911 asylum with the Teen Ninjas if she used Moonbase as a guinea pig for their new hypnotic incense combination. We intercepted the data before it returned to the former Numbuh 11."

He wanted to ask more, like how she figured it all out, but he wasn't an idiot. Numbuh 362 was still an Intelligence agent. "You couldn't tell me this ahead of time?"

She flinched and he was glad of it. "You were already suffering from the effects, but I didn't know to what extent or if 911 had already implanted suggestions in your head during the last few days. We didn't want to give it away we were onto her. I..." She looked positively chastened. "I'm sorry."

Remnants of a memory trickled in. He took down an intruder with the exact same scent his XO was wearing. It was his turn to blush. "Oh, crud. I didn't... did I...?"

Rachel shook her head and he was impressed that she understood what he meant. "You took me by surprise, but I rendered... or knocked," she faintly rolled her eyes at the face he gave her. "...knocked you unconscious. I should have expected resistance, but you seemed so resistant with the incense the past few days I thought you were immune enough to ignore it completely."

"And you?" he slowly sat up. "You weren't affected by the brainwashing properties of the smoke?"

Her lips pursed. "I am... immune."

That was putting it lightly, but Chad wasn't exactly in the mood to dance around the issue about Rachel's psy-null mind. He was supposed to not know about it.

She continued, "I assume you have a lot of questions. If you are well enough, I'd be happy to tell you what I and Sector V found the last few days."

Her explanation was thorough and expected. After witnessing a few strange personality changes during her rounds, Numbuh 362 brought the incense box she was given to Intelligence and used her previous ties with them to pull an investigation. During testing, Sector V had arrived on Moonbase with Numbuh 5 at the forefront, warning she overheard Cree releasing a biological weapon on base. Even Numbuh 4 could put two and two together.

When he asked what countered the incense, her shoulders instinctively hitched up and she pointed to herself. "I borrowed this from Numbuh 3. It's an organic perfume with honey extract. One of its positive effects is that it clears anxiety and mental manipulation. KND Intelligence modified the perfume and made it a counter-agent to the boxes. Do not be alarmed to find a good number of operatives with the same scent the next couple of days. We are still in the disinfecting phase."

It smelled good and he may have hinted later on that she should keep the perfume long after it wasn't needed. He kept telling himself that it was for the benefit of future safety and little to do with the fact it was the most appealing scent to waft from his XO since sliced apples.

* * *

"You haven't pressed into my territory since this game has started, Numbuh 274. Must you resort to petty tactics every single time?"

He blew into the red dice for good luck before tossing them onto the board. "Can't win if you don't capture as many territories as possible."

Rachel, oddly enough, didn't consider it a free-for-all attacking the third neutral territory. Instead, she aggressively picked off Chad's countries one-by-one, slowly gaining what he considered after-thought territories in favor of securing more of the neutral nation's eastern ones.

It wasn't until after he captured most of the neutral territory's countries did he realize that she acquired most of the US and South America in the process, practically ousting his troops to the Atlantic border.

He hummed in mild amusement of his oversight. "How about you just accept my marriage proposal and unite our armies instead?"

Rachel's lips twitched. "My country is a democracy. Proposal denied."

"_Boring_," he teased and got to his feet. "More fun to play it as a dictatorship." Usually, he refused to turn his back away while waiting, too often used to people trying to cheat while he was distracted.

Fortunately for him, Rachel wasn't the type to use underhanded tactics. He's seen her enforce a strict honor code both inside and outside of work. Now he can go to the bathroom and get a snack without worrying if his opponent was trying to cheat him out of his win.

When he returned with popcorn, he found her politely waiting on the couch and taking comfort in the cushions while examining the board. Not a single one of his plastic soldiers were out of place. He gave her the bowl and used his freed hands to look around the board for an opening to take back his countries.

"What if I told you I'm a benevolent dictator?"

A look of disbelief was his answer before she popped a kernel into her mouth. "I have never heard a dictator in history who ever conquered using peace."

"That's because most of them were too ugly to pull it off," he chuckled. "I smile once and they fall over in droves. No violence necessary."

"You attacked the neutral country with your infantry, not smiles."

"I attacked them with love and rainbows and all the girly things people attribute to peace."

Her eyebrow quirked up in a way he wordlessly understood. _Now see here, if you can't take this seriously, I will overthrow your dictatorship and substitute my own._

A half hour later he finally got the advantage. It came with great cost to his forces and the fact that Rachel was nodding off from the long campaign. He ended up pulling the ceasefire card, but reshuffled it back into the deck while he watched his XO curl against the arm of the couch and snooze peacefully for what looked to be the first time in the last two weeks.

As she dozed, he decided that he wasn't ready to conclude the game until he readily conquered every single territory she owned and have her bow to his superiority.

**Dreams are just the visual flavor of your emotions, a glimpse of your innermost desires.**


	4. Act 3: The Ice Dancers

**Beauty is supposed to be simple. But the more you age, you find it becomes more complex. Everyone has a unique preference. Some like red hair or blue eyes. Some like them extremely slender or thick. Sometimes you can fall in love with something more abstract in its beauty like a painting or an ideal.**

**What I personally wanted was the best of both worlds; something simple, but complex. Like a glance of beauty that was subdued and not extravagant, a quiet beauty that burrowed its way inside like an overgrown ivy that squeezed and twisted whichever way like a haunting tune of an old lullaby or a splash of cool pastel on canvas.**

**I wanted a typical rock neglected on the side of a busy street, sometimes occasionally kicked until it shatters, revealing thick crystal underneath its own ugly crust. I've always had an appreciation for a natural beauty.**

**But I suppose there is a place in the universe for artificial beauty, so long as that beauty makes something of its common short life.**

Numbuh 883, or rather Lindi Spencer, was in charge of dock operations. It was a temporary job because the usual quartermaster was out on sick leave after a run in with the Common Cold, so she was unprepared for the major tasks and responsibilities that set for her in the day.

An offering to dine with the Supreme Leader tonight, however, had her completing her tasks in record time before the night shift arrived. She was a pretty girl with wavy dark hair and startling green eyes. While she wasn't as popular with the boys as Numbuh 10 was, she was a solid eight on the pretty scale for impressionable boys and therefore enough for Numbuh 274's attention; and really, who was the real winner when the rest of them pined for the pretty KND news anchor? There were plenty of other shining goldfish in the fishbowl.

Numbuh 362 had been patiently waiting outside of her Supreme Leader's personal quarters, her hands locked together over a tablet filled with items still needing to be signed. When the door finally slid open and Numbuh 274 emerged out all nice and clean from his shower, she wordlessly stuck the tablet right under his nose while he was in the middle of drying his hair.

"Aside from Numbuh 1, do you ever not work?" he teased and flashed her his famous grin. It faltered at her simple stare so he snatched the offending item without pouting.

No doubt pleased that her objective was completed, she stood at attention and politely refused to answer his rhetorical question as usual. "You are having dinner with Numbuh 883, temporary quartermaster for dock's three, five, and seven."

He looked up from the digital paperwork; a dark eyebrow popped up in amusement. "Keeping tabs on me, are you?"

"I am your second-in-command, Numbuh 274," she responded, which he had successfully translated in his head as, _'You are, my first and foremost, to take care of you moron.'_

The way she had phrased it and the exasperated little downturn of her lips did a weird flopping sensation in his gut, but he forced it down. Impossible. She wasn't the type to _pout_. "So," he broke the awkward silence by scrawling his name with the stylus on the digital paperwork, "next you'll be saying all her accolades and her favorite color."

"She has minimum accolades, mostly for perfect attendance and exemplary honors in shuttle maintenance and ice cream sharing."

Numbuh 274 lowered the tablet, his stare incredulous. "Tell me you're joking."

And there it was. That little glittering in her brown eyes that spoke more volumes than with words._ She was messing with him._ "Her favorite color is sea green."

He laughed, pressing the corner of the tablet against his forehead. "Anything else or are you trying to make me late on purpose?"

Just like that, the light in her eyes dimmed back to normal. No matter how many times he'd read her personnel file there was no instruction manual on how to understand his XO. He's been flying blind the past few months, testing the waters and gauging what triggered or pleased her. It was both aggravating, but a challenge he couldn't help but take on.

He was glad, at the least, that he saw private snippets of her warmth, however rare they were.

"You know of the differences of rank between the two of you?"

His good humor fell flat right then, almost insulted by how accusatory it sounded, even if Numbuh 362 most likely hadn't meant it in that way. "You're questioning my judgment? She's not getting a free pass up the career track if that's what you're implying…"

"That was not my intention." To her credit, she seemed mildly affronted at his glare and averted her gaze.

He snorted and handed over the tablet. "Yeah, well… going on dates with other KND operatives isn't against the rules."

Strange enough, those dark eyes had snapped back, locking his in with that peculiar stare. It was as if she was calculating his words and adding them into an equation he hadn't known of.

A few seconds later, she had seemed to have found her answer, but not one she was satisfied with. She suddenly glared at him, as if she had been insulted. "I apologize for interrupting your free time, Supreme Leader. Excuse me."

_Supreme Leader._ Not Numbuh 274. It was back to square one again.

"Tch." Mood soured, he glared at her retreating back until she disappeared completely into the twist of the corridor. What the heck was wrong with her today? Did it matter anyways? He needed hand signals, _landing lights_, something that answered the question to her strange mood.

Whatever. It wasn't his fault and therefore, not his problem. He let her simmer with dignity while he had fun for once; maybe let Numbuh 1 pour her a glass of soda and try to solve the complexity that is Numbuh 362 since they seemed to be so chummy lately.

And yet, the thought of her reaching out to Uno so easily had further spoiled his mood.

The date ended up moved two days later, which he was irritated and glad for. He might have embarrassed himself further ranting about XO's and how confusing the fairer gender was. All of which were immediate mood killers in his experience.

* * *

Zero's grace came as an invitation.

Things on the command deck were much more subdued than usual, but neither of them had faltered in their duties. They were courteous and had communication, but small talk was reduced and frankly, that was when 274 knew he was in some kind of platonic dog house.

His mood raised when Numbuh 10 arrived to give 362 an invitation to a girl's only Luau, one that had perplexed the both of them when Numbuh 10 waved and genuinely expressed the hope that their Global Tactical Officer would join their little soiree.

Numbuh 362 had never looked so confused and horrified by the small flowery card in her hand.

"You should go," he voiced his thoughts aloud. "It's not everyday you're invited to one of those. Make some friends."

The look she gave him for it never looked so icy, silently accusing him before turning back to her station. What did he do wrong this time?

She attended, according to his sources, and the consequences of that left him alone in the only free night he had the last three weeks. They still had a chess board in his quarters that hadn't been finished nor touched in those last weeks until there was time for them to resume it. He had sworn up and down he hadn't touched the pieces since, and he was catching on that she was just teasing him with the questioning. The banter stopped after their little road bump last night, but he will forgo their chess game if it meant she could acquire some quality female companions.

It must be awfully boring spending time with him all the time. Even Numbuh 9, in his infinitely saint patience, had a limit spending time with him. Something to do with the bragging and egging for challenges.

Her absence left him able to simmer afterward, and it had nothing to do with the summer weather (which meant little since he was on Moonbase with nice A/C blowing through). He turned in after staring at the chess board for a half hour, minding all the possible moves he could defeat her white pieces with, and realized that if he didn't get a new hobby soon, this may turn into another obsession.

An obsession with the KND was more than enough please.

* * *

The beach party must have doubled as a sleepover because the next morning, bright early and him ready to cajole and order Numbuh 362 to stop being a girl and making boys like him feel like they're in the wrong for Zero's sake, the command deck was blissfully free of female influence.

"Any word from... well..." Numbuh 274 sat on his throne and gestured to the empty seats where a few of the female personnel should have been in attendance. But, like Numbuh 362's empty station, they too must have been invited to the party.

Numbuh 65.3 straightened his pocket protector before saluting. "No word from any operative today, sir! Last transmission was about the all-girls beach party last night at 1900."

Odd.

"Guess they had too much fun last night," 274 shrugged and slouched in his seat since 362 wasn't there to criticize him for bad posture. "Looks like we're riding solo today, gentlepunks!"

There was much cheering to be had, though, by the end of the afternoon things were more subdued than usual. It had been weird that there were no girls around, not even outside the global command deck.

He waffled around between maintaining his dignity by not calling her and that niggling feeling of worry that urged him to just swallow his pride and call. Beach party, sleepover, female initiation into the_ Rainbow Monkey Fanclub_ or no, Numbuh 362 wasn't the type to shirk responsibility; especially when she hadn't called well into the afternoon.

Eventually his famous dignity mattered little with the warning bells in his head. He caved and tried transmitting a message to 362, but all he received was static. Numbuh 10's mom answered and seemed distracted when she reassured them the girls were fine before she hung up. At least he _thought_ it was her mom.

Numbuh 362 couldn't still be mad at him, could she, he wondered. Fine, two could play at the game. Why should they sit around all day while the girls had fun?

It was blazing hot according to the thermogauge for Earth, so he was in a spoiled mood today and offered an all-boys out to the _Gallagher Community Ice Rink_ for those who lived on the eastern states. There had been much celebration and everyone pushed and shoved for the docking stations, but 274 didn't mind the chaos this time.

Anything was preferable to getting his mind off the heat and frustrating XO's.

And really, nothing cured frustration like socking someone in the jaw on the ice. Joining the NHL wasn't on his parents' grand scheme for their golden child, but they had sought to keep their beloved son at top physical condition during football's off-season. Hockey built stamina and strength; lazying around didn't earn you the coveted quarterback spot next season.

Decked in a thick orange jersey with violet tiger stripes, Chad secured his helmet and ordered them all to be separated into teams with Numbuh 1 leading the opposing team. It was two birds with one stone. Infinity had been badgering him to test Uno's ability to command in a controlled environment for weeks. This was all the more reason to prove that there was no one greater at leading than Numbuh 274.

"Oooh! Oooh! Pick me, Numbuh 1! Pick me!" Numbuh 4 bellowed and jumped up and down waving his arms. The end of his hockey stick hit Numbuh 60 on the head, who growled and tried shove him if he hadn't been stopped by his Supreme Leader's hockey stick and a casual look of warning.

"Save it for the game, Lieutenant," Chad grinned and defused the situation.

Numbuh 1 rubbed at his helmet and sighed. "Alright, alright. I pick Numbuh 4. Numbuh 2, you're goalie."

"Hey! Why do_ I_ have to be goalie?!" Sector V's ace pilot asked in protest.

"Probably because you can cover the goal better than anyone here!" A security officer snickered which earned him a random helmet to the face.

Not even their Supreme Leader's winning smile could stop another skirmish on the ice. He palmed his face and sighed. "I think I'm missing the girls."

Wally and a few of the other boys loudly disagreed. "Yeah right! They're probably still doing their stupid Louie thing-"

_"Luau,"_ Nigel pointed out.

"-off havin' little tea parties or playin' with their Rainbow Monkeys and all that girly crud! Who needs them?!"

"Oh?" Seeing an opening, Chad leaned on his hockey stick and plucked at the easiest bait dubbed Wallabee Beatles. "You don't miss their bouncing curls or their adorable smiles?"

Numbuh 4 made a disgusted face, tongue out and all. "No way! And their stupid skirts and bows and loud giggling..."

"But Numbuh 3's got a sweet laugh," Numbuh 60 followed his leader's example with a smirk. Revenge was a dish best served cold. What better than on the ice? "And she's so cute. I'd pull her hair any day of the week if I could."

Wally spun and nearly slipped trying to snarl at their Arctic Base Lieutenant. "Oi! You can't talk about Numbuh 3 like that!"

"Says who?"

"Says_ ME_! M-I-E-E-E ME!"

Numbuh 60 response was so alarming, some of the boys stood up in attention out of reflex. "Well now, aren't you a smart cookie?! Sound off, maggot! Do you know what _I-D-I-O-T_ means?!"

Wally rolled his sleeves up and definitely slipped this time, but it didn't stop him from yelping like a chihuahua. "I don't know what you said, but them's fightin' words down under, ya polar bear!"

Chad grabbed the two boys by the back of their jerseys before they attacked each other again. "Alright, alright. I think I smell a challenge! Ain't that right, boys?" They all cheered in approval. "How's this? Whoever makes the first goal gets to ask Kuki Sanban out on a date?"

And that as they say was history. Numbuh 4 was so angry and determined to keep the others from cinching that victory he moved like a champ through the field when the first puck was tossed.

The ref's whistle barely blew before Numbuh 274's own hockey stick went flying into the fray. It was pure testosterone. Simple, not complicated.

He slid across the ice and slammed his shoulder right into an engineering operative, shoving him against the Plexiglas with a satisfying crunch. His opponents hollered and Numbuh 2 was jeering, but that was the spirit of the game. The puck danced back and forth around the white field before Patton captured the black chunk and send it flying into Hoagie, who flew with purpose into the opposing net, earning a point by technicality.

His team cheered and Numbuh 4 launched himself with a roar at Numbuh 60 for winning the bet. They tumbled around the ice while some egged the fight on.

Numbuh 274 would have tried breaking them up if he hadn't caught a familiar mess of blond hair peeking out near the side door. The momentary distraction had him accidentally slam against Numbuh 35 and right onto his back. His head bounced on the ice, but thanks to his helmet, he only saw a few stars.

Numbuh 65.3 sounded his whistle seeing as he refused to do anything but referee though his obsession with following the rules to a T has earned him many practice ducking 'stray' pucks for bad calls. "Penalty box for Numbuh 4!" he shouted indignantly when Wally launched himself at a security operative for making a silly face at him.

As Chad's teammates shoved him back up to his feet, his head swiveled back to the spectators' area and felt like a fool when there was no one there. He could have _sworn_ he saw a girl there. In his peripheral vision, the boys were in an uproar of laughter when the lot of them shoved a snarling Numbuh 4 headfirst into the penalty box and locked him in there.

"Think you can manage taking us on with one less guy on your team?" Chad refocused on Nigel, who arrived to check on his Supreme Leader's fall.

Numbuh 1 pulled up his helmet to grin back. "I've worked with _less_."

Now that's what he was talking about! "Don't make me have you eat your words, Numbuh 1!" he teased, and they both retreated for another formation.

Numbuh 65.3 whistled loudly and this time it wasn't Numbuh 4's fault. "Hey! There are _girls_ on the ice! Get out we're playing a game here!"

Instead of focusing on the play, Numbuh 1 blinked and looked over Chad's shoulder, almost dumbstruck, forcing Chad to swivel around and find who was ruining their game.

His blue eyes widened. A group of teenaged ice skaters in sparkling outfits giggled and circled the flustered Numbuh 65.3 before weaving around the players in what would really be described as _teasing_. They were extremely beautiful... almost otherworldly beautiful.

And when a stunning red head zipped by him, her wild curls framing a lipid smile, an awful feeling of familiarity hit him when Numbuh 60 dumbly called out, "Numbuh 86?"

No way. That was impossible. This girl was much older, with curves made for a teenager like Cree. Maybe she was 86's older sister or something.

Speaking of Cree, the confusion didn't end there. Another one old enough to look the spitting image of Cree, but humbler and oddly familiar with a strong set of shoulders reminded him of Numbuh 5 when she passed by.

He was frozen to the spot when another danced around, pure and flittering like a true delicate Japanese teenage girl with open black eyes. She smiled like Numbuh 3.

These girls were the older spitting images of his operatives and that made little sense.

Some of the boys couldn't help but wolf whistle and laughed at the few that passed by, especially Numbuh 2, who was literally sliding after the Numbuh 5 lookalike with his tongue out and a goofy expression on his face.

His mood lowered along with the sudden drop in temperature.

"Hey gorgeous!" Numbuh 2 fluffed himself up for the dark skinned teen. "Lookin' to watch me stop every goal like a boss?"

The girl chuckled and turned, her dark eyes glittering, sounding_ exactly_ like Cree. "Why don't you look into my eyes and find out, big guy?"

"Do you stupid teenagers mind?! We're in the middle of pract-" Nigel began, obviously less amused than the rest of them, but his words were cut short along with the laughter.

Once Hoagie locked eyes with the girl, he instantly turned into a block of ice. His operatives jumped away in alarm and screamed.

"GYYYYAH! WHAT THE CRUD?! NUMBUH 2?!" Wally's muffled shouting from the box attracted the Japanese girl, who slid and blocked his gaze with her own.

"Hey there, Wally!" she chirped sweetly.

He blinked in confusion. "N-Numbuh 3?"

"Don't look into her eyes Numbuh 4!" Chad shouted, but it was too late. The entire penalty box and everything inside it turned into ice.

"KIDS NEXT DOOR RETREAT!" Nigel sounded the alarm, but most of the boys were already clamoring for escape only to be picked off and frozen one by one by the ice dancers.

Patton cleverly covered his eyes with his helmet and blindly fought with the red head to give the others more time to escape. Unfortunately, the girl who looked like Numbuh 86 leg swept him onto the ice and pinned him.

"Suhprise ye stupid boy!" The red head laughed, tossed away his helmet, and turned him into an ice sculpture.

Both Nigel and Chad found themselves the only ones unfrozen, back-to-back as the girls circled them like sharks. "Eyes to the floor, Numbuh 1!" 274 ordered, his hard blue gaze following the ice skates as he assumed a defensive position with his hockey stick.

"What should we do, sir?!" Nigel cried out, his voice half-strangled, no doubt reeling from the loss of his two sector teammates.

The ice skaters continued to laugh and dance around them and his own mind ground for some kind of solution.

How do you take on a bunch of teenagers who had the power to freeze you by looking into their eyes? "We've got to blind them for an advantage," he said to the white floor. "Else we're popsicles!"

Unable to see the attack, Numbuh 274 let out a shout of pain when he felt the air in his lungs leave him as was kicked in the gut and tossed onto the ice.

"Numbuh 27-!" Nigel had shouted, only to have his shades knocked off and turned into ice by the Numbuh 5 lookalike.

"Numbuh 1!" He shouted and then growled across the rink when they converged into an elegant formation. Behind them, a beautiful pale teenage girl with a sparkling leotard and a crown made of ice jumped from the spectators seats and landed on the highest perch of the plexiglas.

"What have you done?!" he demanded. "Who are you, you crazy-?!"

The teen girl giggled into her dainty fingers and posed for him. "How unrefined talking to a lady like that. Do you not recognize_ Miss Lovely Winter_? Winner of the _Lovely Winter_ contest for three years in a row?"

"...but it's summer."

"I _KNOW_ IT'S SUMMER!" she snapped and pointed accusingly at him. "And word on the street is you're the bratty Kids Next Door's ultimate leader. The bounty Father put on your head is absolutely extravagant! And look, you brought more of your brats with you! Father will be so pleased with the haul I'll be able to give him!"

Bounty? Eyes narrowed, Chad brandished his hockey stick and slid into a defensive stance, keeping his gaze off the girls and at this unseen villain. "You want my operatives? Come and get them, ice witch."

"How-HOW DARE YOU! Stupid brat!" she snarled and gestured to her minions. "Calling _me_ a witch?! My lovely ice dancers, capture that clown!"

"Good, I could use a challenge! Don't think just because you've got an army of girls to throw at me I'll go easy on them." Matching speed with the first contender, Chad raised his stick over his shoulder to swipe hard at the red head that looked strikingly like his Head of Decommissioning.

Lovely Winter smiled unpleasantly. "You'd really hurt your own lady operatives?"

His eyes widened in alarm at the statement and at the last minute, dodged teenage Numbuh 86's side kick and slid backwards from her grasp. "They're not my operatives!" he shouted despite sliding away from Numbuh 3's perfectly manicured nails.

"Oh, but they are." With a snap of her fingers, pockets of ice around Lovely Winter melted and through the holes, emerged frozen ice sculptures of the many female operatives who had left for the Luau last night. Some were caught unawares or frozen in a state of anger or fear.

"I mean, there's not much of a difference between the real sculptures of your operatives and my ice dancers," Lovely Winter trilled and curled silver hair with her finger. "The bodies before you may be nothing but snow and ice, but everything from their personalities and memories have been faithfully copied; right down to their muscle memory. I've simply made them older and more beautiful than their flat, childlike bodies. Don't you agree that they're so much more beautiful in their prime?"

He said nothing, gritting his teeth and could only do nothing but jump away from Numbuh 5's spinning kick.

"And," she smiled, "they obey only me, the artist that lovingly sculpted them. Perfect, beautiful teenagers."

The ice mannequins of Numbuh 10 and Numbuh 23 attacked him both at once. He forced the hockey stick between them in a one-sided tug-o-war, turning his head to avoid their glowing eyes. "Look what you've done to them...!" he snarled, helmet askew. "There's nothing beautiful about an artificial body! They're not the real thing! Which means they're fair game to get rid of!"

"If you hurt them, their real selves in the ice blocks will be hurt as well!" she warned when he smacked the artificial Numbuh 23 in the gut with his hockey stick. "The link is what gives my ice dancers their abilities. Cause pain for them and it mirrors their hosts!"

His gaze flickered up to the encased operative in ice who's frozen eyes flinched in pain. Apologetic, Chad jumped away and gnashed his teeth together, mind whirring with possible tactics. The only way to stop this would be to cut the source of it.

"THEN I'LL JUST HURT YOU!" He shoved his teenage operatives backwards and weaved between the ice creatures like a demon, seeing nothing but red for what the teenager had done to his comrades.

Lovely Winter laughed at his incoming rampage, expecting it. She opened her arms to him when he jumped and raised the hockey stick over his head for a heavy blow which never came.

He let out another gasp of air when a blur came between them and punched him hard in the gut. Before he could even blink, his arm was grabbed, and he ended up bodily tossed across the rink. He yelped in surprise when his body bounced and smacked hard into a few of the frozen boys in the process before he crashed into the goalie's net.

With a wince of pain he shakily tried to get back on his feet, ignoring the spike of pain that ran up his hip and shoulders.

His attacker was silent save for the sounds of her skates sliding toward him as the others retreated in a fit of laughter. He glimpsed those black skates and worked his way up to perfectly sculpted legs and a lithe teenage body built for a balance beam or a gymnastics tournament. His eyes widened at the golden hair tied back into a harsh bun and a perfect sweep of bangs across her dark brown eyes forgetting the fact he should avoid staring at their eyes.

"This one put up quite a fight alongside the ones called Abigail and Francine," Lovely Winter narrated softly. "Then their ice dancer replicas cried out she was your second-in-command."

"Enough games!" he shouted at Rachel's beautiful teenage doppelganger, reaching his breaking point. Out of everyone she could have tarnished, she picked _Numbuh 362_ to stand against him. His chest tightened when that coy shoulder lifted up and he fleetingly wondered if it had something to do with his injuries. "I'm looking at her! Why is she not freezing me like the others?!"

"Because I need you coherent long enough to accept a proposal Father wants to give you," she answered. "You're almost a teenager and the Teen Ninjas would trade a dozen of their agents for a Supreme Leader."

He snarled in pain when Rachel coldly grabbed the front of his orange jersey and forced him back onto his feet. But instead of reeling back to attack him, her arms curled around his waist and kept him close. His skin prickled in goosebumps. She was so cold.

Lovely Winter watched them with a secret smile and flicked her silver hair in triumph. "Don't you think your XO is better like this? As a beautiful teenager? You can have her. She could be the perfect girlfriend with the same personality and memories as your frumpy original. She'll follow your every word, every command, defend you until her last breath. Isn't that a generous offer on top of the invitation into our ranks?"

Chad looked down at the compelling look in Rachel's eyes the more she curled into his chest and a mixture of desire and disgust hit him hard. What the heck was he doing hesitating on this? This wasn't her and trading a copy when the real one was imprisoned boiled his blood.

Still, this creature was still Rachel. She was feeding off his XO's real emotions, her dreams and her personality. Except she wasn't free and never would be.

Artificial or not, he pitied her existence. His grip on her forearms lessened in response when he fully embraced her ice cold form and glanced at the ice sculptures behind Lovely Winter, looking for his real XO.

"Look at what this horrible teen did to you," he murmured softly into that ice cold temple. "I know you're Numbuh 362 in there. You have part of her spirit inside you." The ice mannequin flinched in his arms and looked up in quiet confusion. "You know this isn't you, teenager or not. You are my second-in-command. You belong to the Kids Next Door. You belong to _me_. Fulfill your duty, Rachel, or you will fail your mission."

Those slender shoulders stiffened at his words, but he knew that his words stirred that borrowed soul within her.

A figure behind Lovely Winter, trapped entirely in ice, twitched her frozen fingers in defiance. Rachel's cold dark eyes flickered in cadence to the original and those eyes became warmer, heeding her leader's words instead of her maker's.

"Well?" Lovely Winter demanded, her patience growing short. "Will you give up the Babies Next Door and join us or will I have to turn you into a block of ice like the rest of your brats?"

And, in a move purely Numbuh 362, Rachel wordlessly pointed to an area in the middle of her head with a look he completely understood. The crown was the source of Lovely Winter's power. She pulled away from Chad's grasp and skated with purpose toward her maker.

Chad growled and chased after her. "Consider this my answer, _Mr._ Lovely Winter!"

"MISTER?! Wha-what are you doing, my ice dancer?!" Winter gasped out as her creation jumped into the air and kicked the crown right off her head. It spun in the air before bouncing onto the ice. With his hockey stick, Chad smacked it right into the iced over penalty box, which shattered into the Plexiglas.

Lovely Winter howled as ice shot up her heels, threatening to consume her. "NO! NO WHAT! STOP!" Her screams tapered off when the ice fully engulfed her and the entrapped operatives around her had their own prisons melt away.

One by one the ice dancers dissipated into snowflakes. He watched with a heavy feeling in his chest when Rachel's doppelganger turned her head and faded away.

For the first time, the dancer spoke, soft and hesitant like the spitting image of his XO. "Was I... was I like her? Did I succeed in my mission?"

He smiled, almost painfully. "You weren't like her. You _were_ her. And that makes you beautiful for real."

He'd like to believe that pure smile she gave him before she faded out of existence was something the real Numbuh 362 would be capable of showing him one day.

The lot of them fell to their knees, hunkering down and shivering, more so the girls than the boys having been in cryostasis for longer, before reinforcements arrived with blankets and hot cocoa to revitalize them.

"Numbuh 274!"

Chad turned from the Sector EMT leader's salute and found the real Numbuh 362 jumping onto the ice wearing shorts and a one piece bathing suit, undressed for this environment but uncaring when her eyes darted at the shoulder he was cradling and his slight limp. She stopped in front of him and tried to examine him. "How bad are your injuries, sir?"

"Heh. It's alright." It was futile to stop her so he let her poke and prod at his shirt to test the pain there, her roundabout way of caring he supposed. Most of the girls were carried off the rink and treated for their shivers by Sector EMT and he frowned when Numbuh 362 refused a blanket. "Stop that," he chided. "I'm alright. At least drink something warm."

She shook her head. "I was caught off guard at the luau last night and so it is my responsibility to make sure all my operatives are taken care of before mine. Especially when I..." She cleared her throat. "My doppelganger harmed you."

"So you saw all of that."

"More so than that. I saw... through her eyes like the others did with theirs," Rachel wrapped her arms around her sides and shivered. It was more than the cold; she was internalizing everything again. "I'm sorry I didn't control her sooner, I couldn't..." Without waiting for her to finish, he sighed and took off his orange sweater. He forced it over her head, trapping her arms around the thick fabric and shutting her up with a strong hug.

"You did your job perfectly," he said into her shoulder. "I'm glad you're my XO, Numbuh 362. Dunno what I'd do without you." She twitched in his arms before she relaxed and he felt her shivering slowed from the warmth of his sweater. Or maybe it was his hug. Maybe even both.

When he pulled away, he looked her up and down, from that light blush to the way she curled protectively inside his sweater. "Orange looks good on you," he winked, furthering that blush of hers.

* * *

Lovely Winter had been carted off to Arctic Prison for questioning and really, he had never met another villain who had powers similar to Father's. He met Numbuh Infinity in the _Restricted Archive of Villainous Artifacts_ where Winter's broken crown was to be locked up and experimented by the reverse-tech team.

"Interesting report, Numbuh 274," Infinity said calmly and walked past many of the artifacts with his Supreme Leader stalking at his heels. "Lovely Winter's ability to make proxies out of our operatives would have been a real threat to this organization if she defeated you and ran uncontested."

"Her downfall was her own doing," Numbuh 274 muttered, his gaze a mixture of revulsion and curiosity at the sparkling tiara hovering in a ball of green anti-gravity lasers. "She replicated everything about them right down to their behaviors and personalities to better serve her. Therefore Numbuh 362 could control her dummy counterpart with some coaxing on my end."

Infinity rubbed the bottom of his chin. "And you withstood her offer to escape decommissioning to join them. Your loyalty will prove yourself Numbuh 274."

Chad frowned. "I don't recall ever putting that in my report, Infinity."

As usual, Infinity did nothing but coolly fixed his sunglasses with that aggravating air of mystery. "So you haven't. Pat yourself on the back for your good work. The eye in the sky is on your every move, Mr. Dickson."

With a scoff, Chad tossed a few words of wisdom before he walked away. "This is _my_ organization Infinity, no matter how high you answer to. Next time you want to challenge me, leave my kids out of it. Otherwise you'll find yourself shot out of airlock."

Those dark glasses gleamed onto a pair of Chester's Happy Headbands hovering in the similar anti-gravitational shielding. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe something more sophisticated should be used for our tests." Once Numbuh 274 disappeared completely, Infinity picked up his communicator and used a secured transmission. "I have the idea for Numbuh 1's upcoming test. What do you know about reverse engineering, Numbuh 74.239?"

* * *

He didn't expect finding his XO in his quarters curled in front of the chess board with a large thermal blanket covering everything below her nose. Without a word, he retreated into his kitchen to make some hot cocoa while she quietly examined the pieces.

She made herself at home in his personal space. It was... kind of exhilarating.

"Don't you have a date tonight?" her soft worn voice followed him when he returned with his new CMO ordered hot cocoa.

He placed it on the table next to her before sitting in the opposite seat, trying not to think about how adorable she looked bundled up like a hermit crab. "Yeah well... Lindi wasn't exactly thrilled to hear down the grapevine we had a romantic moment down in the hockey rink."

She flushed. "It... it was just... you just_ hugged_ me."

"That's what I said!" he said and watched her move her only bishop across the board. Just like that, the game was on again. "She didn't think it was in good taste to have dinner with me, so now I'm free for the night."

"I would say sorry, but that is entirely your fault," she mumbled into her blanket to cover her blush. At his inquisitive look, she softly cleared her throat and returned to the chess board. "We hardly have any nights off."

He scratched the back of his neck. "I get that."

"I'm monopoliz... I've realized that I have taken all the spare time you have and confronted you when you preferred to spend it with someone else." She curled into her blanket and he could hear a sigh come from it. "I'm sorry."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked incredulously. "Were you jealous that I wanted to go out on a date? Sorry, shaking your head like you've got lice will not convince me otherwise."

She stopped shaking her head and instead glowered at him. "Jealousy implies-"

"-that you like me. Admit it."

Those lips twitched. "Of course I like you. You're my... my friend."

He must have looked so stupid beaming at her like that. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Deciding to reign back his teasing before his XO's ears smoked, he moved his pawn. "Too bad I couldn't persuade Lindi now we cleared the air. I wouldn't have clung to you like a feral Rainbow Monkey if you just took the cruddy blanket."

"I didn't need your jacket," she said in protest, but as her blanket shifted, he glimpsed a familiar orange before she covered back up.

"You little liar! You're wearing my jacket!" His mouth split into a giant grin when she pulled the blanket over her head and covered herself completely.

"You're misinformed."

With a scoff of disbelief, he reached over the chess board to pry the brown blanket off of her. "Yeah right! Let's see it! I bet you look cute in it!" It was big on him when he wore it. No doubt she was swimming in the fabric and it somehow became a universal priority to see his XO wearing his stuff.

During the little scuffle, the chess board fell over when he moved, but despite her meek protests at the lost of their game, he didn't particularly care. She let out an uncharacteristic squeal when his fingers grazed her side and his smile widened. "No way! Are you ticklish, Numbuh 362?"

"No!" _Liar, liar, pants on fire._ He laughed when she squirmed and erupted into giggles when he attacked her sides, poking at the blanket until she kicked it off in the struggle and revealed that she was in fact wearing his jacket. There was a pause and then...

"I knew it!"

She pouted and, in defiance, tried to pull the jacket off. He used the new knowledge to his advantage by tickling her into stopping which caused her to accidentally kick him in his bruised hip. After he yowled in pain, they both agreed on a ceasefire and ended up tangled on the floor drinking cocoa and hearing her bemoan the state of her antique chess set.

Most of the pieces scattered under the couch and he knew it would be a pain looking for them later on. His hip and shoulder throbbed in sympathy at the idea until Rachel, now warm in his orange jacket and cocoa in her belly, nodded off peacefully against his side. She had had little sleep being frozen and all.

Pulling out a white queen underneath her leg and the black king piece he was sitting on, he set them together on the table and decided that there were some things in life much more fulfilling than a typical date with a pretty girl.


	5. Act 4: The Prince of the Moon

**For the record, there's no such thing as magic.**

**But I believe in something that was alive up there on Luna. Something greater than we could comprehend.**

**There have been a countless number of Supreme Leaders in KND's history. But only a quarter of them could claim true sovereignity of Luna. A true sovereign must clock in at least a year's worth of time on Luna, a feat near impossible for someone who'd rather return to Earth most of the time.**

**In the Seventh Era of the KND, there have only been five Lunar Sovereigns. Numbuh 999, Numbuh 100, Numbuh 362, Numbuh 5, and myself. Receive that grand title and you carry something special, something bestowed from the moon itself wrapped in legend and antiquity.**

**I couldn't make this up if I tried. If you want inquiries, go ask the Moon Spirit who lives on that dead rock.**

When word got out that operatives have been disappearing near Mare Nubium, the Sea of Clouds, Numbuh 274 and a sparse few operatives unafraid of the unending darkened fields of the Lunar Mares arrived on scene.

Northwest of Mare Nubium lay Oceanus Procellarum, the largest and darkest part of the moon, and one of great fear for almost the entirety of KND. No one wanted to tread into the Ocean of Storms even if their Supreme Leader himself demanded it so.

It was why they only had one rover to show for it and a three hour long comb through Operations to nab operatives unaffected by the dark or the unknown before they disembarked the safety of Moonbase for the dead world beyond.

He rarely went on typical missions unless they were of great importance, but they direly needed extra hands. His XO, another rare gem unafraid by the dark, followed, and their third-in-command took their place on the command deck which 274 personally hated.

No one should sit on his throne except for himself.

"ETA two minutes to scene of disappearance," Numbuh 362 announced, bumping knees with him a fifth time during the rocky journey.

Numbuh 274 idly scratched the side of his space helmet, already missing the samurai helmet left behind on Moonbase. He leaned forward to address the leader of Sector M sitting on the driver's seat. "What do we know as of right now about the disappearances?"

Numbuh 497 turned her head. "No new leads as of now. Almost all the missing operatives were new recruits for the Decommissioning Squad. Three were Moonbase Security and one a scientist."

"Great," 274 drawled and returned to his seat. "Numbuh 86 will LOVE this."

Mare Nubium was like all the other Mares: desolate and dead. There were white peaks and black valleys and hardly any other dreary color in between.

The rover quietly rolled to a stop. White dust floated listlessly upwards when his boots hit the ground and he activated the gravity system in his suit to help with the movement.

It was unnerving how much silence there was outside of the domes, especially when he didn't even hear his XO approach him from behind to startle him from his sightseeing.

"Just a couple miles off is Lacus Oblivionis and beyond that is Lacus Timoris," her voice filtered into his helmet via transmission. "Oblivionis should be sufficiently domed and working. Timoris we must activate by Moonbase transmission."

Numbuh 497 made a chilling sound through the transmission. "Let's hope we just visit Oblivionis. Timoris gives me the willies."

The Lake of Fear would give anyone the willies named like that, in 274's professional opinion. "The Lake of Forgetfulness would make sense for the Decommissioning Squad to recharge the Chamber. We'll probably find any clues there about their disappearances."

He just had a nasty feeling of something going on.

When they arrived at Lacus Oblivionis, an abandoned rover was waiting for them outside of the gleaming dome covering the one of the rare lakes filled with water. Upon examination, it was last registered to Numbuh 86's personal squad.

"I don't like this," Numbuh 274 rapped his gloved knuckles worryingly on the roof of the abandoned rover and glanced at his XO who was finishing uploading information onto her tablet from the onboard computer. "This reeks."

Numbuh 497 returned from scoping the surrounding area. "Got a set of footprints heading to the Lake of Forgetfulness."

"Makes sense," Numbuh 362 murmured as she examined the data on her tablet. "This rover shorted out about a mile back and they used the hill slope to take them as far down as they could until it stopped. No data on why the rover failed."

"Could have been a solar flare that fried the instruments," Numbuh 497 said helpfully over his XO's shoulder while they reviewed the data.

"Not possible. There was no warning from our exometeorologist about an upcoming solar flare."

Numbuh 497 hummed as she thought aloud. "Maybe a moonquake? They're small, but these instruments aren't reinforced with extra plating like the ones back on Earth since we rarely take quakes into account."

"Global Command mentioned light tremors near Mare Serenitatis a couple hours ago. We might have to take that into account."

She bounced on the balls of her feet as she cheered. "Woo-hoo! I'm of use today!"

Numbuh 362 easily hid a smile under her helmet and he wandered ahead, hearing an airy giggle over his frequency. "I know you guys are bonding and all, but your giggling is giving me a headache."

The two girls looked up from the tablet in confusion. "This isn't an appropriate time to giggle, Supreme Leader sir," 362 said seriously.

"Well it sure as heck wasn't me!"

There it was, another light giggle ringing in his ears. But neither girl in front of him had visibly opened their mouths. "Who's doing that?" he demanded.

Numbuh 497 raised her palms in defense. "Doing what? Giggling? I hear nothing other than your voice."

"Affirmative," 362 nodded. She suddenly looked concerned. "Are you suffering an oxygen leak, sir?" Before he could even blink she was already checking the equipment strapped to his back, but the giggling continued.

Space madness. He must be going insane.

That was when he saw a fluttering of light in the corner of his vision. Covered in soft light and lacking a space suit, an ethereal girl in a white dress fluttered above the dome of Lacus Oblivionis before disappearing over the curve of it.

He shouted in alarm and nearly toppled 362 over when he barreled back.

* * *

"I'm telling you!" he argued as they walked towards the dome entrance. "I saw her!"

Numbuh 497 held her tongue in amusement, but 362 did not share the humor of the moment. She shot him a look of pure disbelief before keying in the authorization code on the main door. "You said there was a girl in a white dress bouncing around the moon without a space suit. Did you not hear yourself?"

"I know what I saw!" he shot back. The door hissed open without a sound and the on-board computer politely ordered them inside for decontamination. "She wasn't a normal girl. It was almost like... a ghost."

Rachel took off her helmet once the decontamination was complete and the secondary door opened for them. She gave him the equivalent of a deadpan look. "There are no such things as ghosts."

"Could be a moon spirit," Numbuh 497 chirped. "The KND Urban Legend Lexicon has a good read about them. Each Lacus, Mare, and Oceanus are governed by a spirit there. Some are friendly and others are not. If she was a small one, she could have been a Lacus spirit!"

Numbuh 362 sighed. "Don't encourage superstition. We have a missing team to recover."

"Sorry sir."

With a growl, Numbuh 274 stalked ahead, not exactly thrilled that his XO was probably deducing him as either a moron, or a superstitious freak with a case of space madness. The occasional looks she had been giving him pointed at the latter.

Halfway in the narrow tubing of the entrance gave way to the heart of the large dome. The transparent glass covering, occasionally shimmering in a beehive pattern, stretched hundreds of feet up in a protective cocoon that provided air and gravity for them to comfort in without space gear.

Within that dome was one of the smallest lakes on Luna, with actual water covering the dark depths against the white dirt surface. There were no ripples and no signs of the water moving.

It was eerily still like the last time he had been there when Numbuh 100 was still Supreme Leader.

Numbuh 497 shivered. "Gah... that water is so black. Gives me the willies. Can you imagine jumping in there?"

He did and quietly shivered in sympathy. Maneuvering in the dark was one thing to a KND operative, but a vast majority would be against jumping into an alien pool of water where no light can penetrate its depths.

Numbuh 362 was the first to move forward and examine the water with a TRACKAMABOB, a relatively new portable radar system Numbuh 2 finally okayed for distribution.

The screen on the modified ping-pong paddle made random beeping noises while he and Numbuh 497 investigated the circumference of the lake for any signs of recent movement on the white dirt.

That was when Numbuh 362 shouted in alarm.

Numbuh 274 whirled around, S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. on hand when he saw someone grab 362's free arm from behind. Before he could properly recognize the individual, 362 spun around and kicked her assailant right in the face and he went sprawling a good few feet from the force of it.

"Alright, GTO!" Numbuh 497 cheered, her pigtails bouncing as she ran over. "Look at the air he got! Solid ten out of ten!"

"Yeah, GTO," 274 drawled, when he nudged the unconscious boy onto his back, in gear familiar with the Decommissioning Squad. "You just KO'd Numbuh 686."

Numbuh 362 palmed her face once the adrenaline wore off and apologized once they stirred awake one of their senior decommissioning operatives.

* * *

Numbuh 86 wasn't too far off according to 686 who was sporting a visible red boot mark on his face, and when he led them further on and found 86 with her group, she broke into tears laughing at the oldest member of her squad.

"Nah, nah, did ye really get ah boot to the 'ead?!" Fanny squealed and doubled over. "That's what yah get for messin' with girls, yah moron!"

"Well, you look little distressed," Chad said flatly. "Operatives have been disappearing left and right around Mare Nubium, but you all seem to be accounted for."

With a half-hearted salute, Fanny folded her arms back and stomped around. "Aye, but I know why they'd be disappearin' at least!"

"Yeah! It's all over the extranet now! Apparently operatives have been jumping into the lakes as a new dare!" Numbuh 868 popped up, which earned him a smack on the head by his superior for stealing her lines.

"Ew..." Numbuh 497 recoiled in disgust. "Who in their right minds would jump into those big black pools? They're scary!"

Fanny snorted. "Stupid boys! Tryin' to be manly and stupid messin' with my beloved lakes..."

In actuality, the ratio of missing operatives were equal between boys and girls, but 274 had a feeling 86 wouldn't pay attention to that tidbit.

"They shouldn't be jumping into them anyhow," 362 said plainly. "What if they taint the Memorystream?"

"What's a Memorystream?" 497 wondered aloud.

Because 497 was a girl, 86 was much more patient explaining it to her. "The Memorystream is what we call the lake water when we pump the water from Lacus Oblivionis to power the Decommissioning Chambers, a sacred practice passed on from one decommissioner to another! Without it, the chamber would probably do nothing but burn out your hair. I dunno, we never tried it... yet." She eyed her male teammates, who pouted.

"Jumping into the Lake of Forgetfulness is immediate grounds for decommissioning!" she continued. "If the lake is messed with and it refuses to get its water drained, the KND can go kaput in a matter of months with all the teenage traitors running about!"

"Well, we can't decommission these operatives if we can't find them," 362 pointed out. "Any leads so far?"

Numbuh 274 didn't want to say it. It was obvious no one wanted to say the alternative of what happened to the operatives who never surfaced jumping into bodies of water. The way he held himself must have caught 362 on because she gave him a grim look. "Until we actually find them, we can't assume anything, sir."

He turned to 86. "You said 'it refuses to get its water drained if its messed with'. You saying the lake is alive?"

She looked at him like he was asking such a stupid question. "No duh. How do yah think there's water on the moon in the first place? Science? Bah! The moon spirit who guards this lake gives us permission!"

"Well then, looks like it's not space madness," he grinned at 362, who shot a glower at him. "I told you I saw something weird outside the domes."

Numbuh 497 chuckled nervously. "Supreme Leader saw a floating girl outside without a space suit."

"Aye, might be the moon spirit alright!" 86 chirped proudly. "She dunna show 'erself to just anyone, yah know?"

It was obvious 362 didn't believe the lot of them. She folded her arms.

"Well then. Our Supreme Leader could see her for obvious reasons then," said Rachel and much to his irritation, it was obvious she was leading him on for a fool. "He's the leader of Moonbase, which according to space law, makes him something of a prince; a Prince of the Moon to be specific."

He frowned. "Not king?" Prince sounds so girly.

"Please! It's the 20th Century, ya stoopid..." Fanny grumbled the rest of her insult lest she ended up shot out of airlock. "If princesses have to get married to become queen, you bet yer sorry butt you gotta marry to be king too!"

Rachel shrugged helplessly. "She has a valid point."

Numbuh 274 gave the girls in attendance a mild look of disgust. "No thanks. How about just calling me, oh I don't know, total shot in the dark; Supreme Leader? Has a nice ring to it if I say so myself."

His XO's lips lilted up in a way meant only for him. "Another valid point."

Numbuh 497 clapped her hands together and said dreamily, "Moon Royalty... sounds like a fairy tale romance!"

"As I was saying!" 86 said loudly. "I brought the group up here to check on Oblivionis and decommission any stoopid kids trying to jump in it. After Numbuh 686 tipped me off of another diving dare today, we decided to amp up the security and see if we can catch them in the act. Doesn't look like they visited this lake though."

"Ugh..." 497 made a face. "That means it leaves us with the Lake of Fear, doesn't it? Why couldn't we look in a nicer place like Lacus Felicitatis?"

Numbuh 274 snorted. "Because the Lake of Happiness sounds like a wimpy place to dive? Looks like we'll take a look at Lacus Timoris while 86 and her group secure Oblivionis."

"I'd watch out if I were you," 86 warned. "The moon spirit guarding Timoris isn't as nice as the one here. There's a reason she guards the Lake of Fear."

"You're taking me for a ride aren't you?" he accused Rachel later on once the meeting dispersed.

She looked up from her tablet, mildly serious. "Interesting euphemism. But yeah, I am. Mermaids do not exist and even if they did, it's an Earth creature, not a lunar one. Neither do ghosts, leprechauns, the Lochness Monster, or bigfoot."

"I saw her with my own two eyes! And 86 believes in the moon spirits!"

"A trick of the light, most likely. These domes can sometimes refract light on a whim." She returned her attention to the screen on her lap as they drove their rover towards Lacus Timoris, physically ignoring the frown he was giving her. "And Numbuh 86 is hardly the poster child of mental health."

With a snort, he folded his arms and slid petulantly down his seat. "Next you're going to say Numbuh Zero doesn't exist or something. That might actually get you thrown out of airlock."

Her lips pursed, but she said nothing.

* * *

"Well, they're not incorrect," Infinity answered carefully into his headset. "Galactic space held by the KND has an umbrella term for single leaders who control specific portions of territory. In humanity's case, the Supreme Leader title can be recognized as ruler in some KND centered galactic kingdoms. Your hold expands beyond the Kuiper Belt and towards the edge of the Sol System. Your 'throne' is physically on Luna, Earth's designated satellite. Even more so KND leaders who have ruled longer than a year are given a preference of remaining after the age of thirteen should they wish it. Therefore you, the Supreme Leaders before you and after you, are technical inheritors of Lunar Royalty."

Prince of the Moon. Ugh.

Chad could hear Infinity's careful walk around his office back on Moonbase and a couple of papers shuffling. Infinity continued afterwards. "Our particular records predates the KND, but Earth's moon had always been waterless until one day eons ago. Lacus Oblivionis was the first place filled with water and was then protected by an ancient dome built in gratitude by the First Era of the KND. All that remains of its history is the legend."

More preoccupied with his paperwork than any tripe of fantasy, Numbuh 274 frowned at the tablet on his lap and humored Infinity's weird nostalgia while they drove down the landscape towards the Lake of Fear. "Maybe the legend is true then. We walked on a rainbow and ended up on the moon."

"I can hear sarcasm quite well, Numbuh 274 thank you," Infinity clipped in his ear. "It was a moonbow, not a rainbow."

"Riiiight."

Infinity continued. "The Lake of Forgetfulness. Did 86 explain the main ingredients for the decommissioning modules, Numbuh 274? It is a perfect blend of secret ingredients merged with a drop of lunar water; every child before you was given a tear of Oblivionis before their memories were gone."

* * *

**I'v͜e̵ beén ̡so͝ ļo͡n̛e͘ļy. W̵on't͘ ̢yo͘u ͢s̢t̶a͘y, mý ̴pri̕nc̢e?**

There were no memories he had. Only fear.

Scratch that. If he could concentrate, just a tiny bit without fear nibbling at the back of his neck, he could remember why he was holding onto his XO as they sank into the deepest darkness.

They had found the missing operatives jump into the Lake of Fear just as they arrived and almost compelled by an unseen force, Rachel had jumped after one of them and he had followed despite the horror of the depths there.

His grip on Rachel's sleeve was like steel no matter how hard the current tried to separate them. Once there was a break in the current, he pulled at her arm until he could get a proper hold around her waist.

That was when he realized that they hadn't drowned yet.

He held his XO as if she was his lifeline and kept his eyes shut, too scared to open them and realize that they were truly lost in the pure blackness of the sea.

And then there was a sound by his ear, soft and lilting. It was calling out to the darkness.

Despite the fear crawling from his gut and into his chest he opened his eyes and found, not blackness, but light beneath their feet as it sprawled downwards into the abyss. For a fleeting moment of horror, he wondered if they were supposed to follow it into oblivion until his sense of balance returned and he realized they were floating upside down.

_You have called me, my dearest friends. My prince..._

He found his XO gazing back at him, her skin translucent and her eyes a bright silver that lacked pupils.

_"My prince..."_ Rachel whispered, her voice ethereal and reverberating in the water._ "Don't fear the darkness here! For you have inherited this silver world like the strongest ones before you."_

Before he succumbed from the lack of air, Rachel wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. He gasped as air breathed into him and expressed out.

His XO faltered. The surrounding light dimmed and the silver in her eyes retreated into a familiar brown before she floated unconsciously in his arms. He looked up and found the light fluttering above, like a beacon, and the young pure white girl he saw before with a shining silver fish tail elegantly swam in a circle around them, paving the way back through the sea of darkness.

He held his XO tight and kicked upwards as hard as he could, never looking back into the abyss, and the soft laughter of the child spirit dancing upon the moonbows as she skimmed the shallow water above.

* * *

_"The youngest and most forgotten sister of the Lunar Lakes, Lacus Oblivionis, the Lake of Forgetfulness, danced and played on her dark sand for millions of years without a soul to talk to. Then, gazing upon the blue jewel of Earth, she heard the soft cries of children._

_In an act of mercy, she extended a moonbow to Earth and the bravest and strongest of all children walked the long sparkling bridge into the darkness of space. When they finally reached the little goddess she welcomed them to her dark home and so, on the outskirts of Oblivionis, the first Moonbase was born. These children and all others after became the first space-faring operatives of the Kids Next Door._

_Oblivionis promised them eternal youth and happiness so long as they remained on the Moon and so they spent many months exploring and playing with the goddess to their hearts' content._

_But eventually Lacus Veris, the oldest and greatest of the sister lakes, heard the longing cries from the children's parents and urged Oblivionis to send them home. Oblivionis cried many tears for every child that departed from her sea and back into their mothers' arms. Her tears continued until the land she danced in was flooded with water and there was but one child left to bade farewell too._

_"We will return and promise to play with you," the bravest and strongest child told her. "I will stay and guard this sanctuary until I am too old to remain. Then the next greatest child will watch it in my place. And the next child and the next until the KND is no longer needed."_

_Her final tear one with joy; one that dropped into the lake like a pearl of light. She turned into a mermaid and disappeared within the silvery depths. The child kept their promise, leading the children from afar on a throne of silver, and became the first Supreme Leader of the Kids Next door."_

Numbuh 274 set The KND Urban Legend Lexicon down and picked up the pearl sitting innocent on his desk, gleaming an unnatural white that could easily be mistaken for a bead of pure light.

He played with it, letting it dance between his fingers in mild admiration. "A pearl of light," he murmured. "Is this tear of decommissioning meant for me then, Oblivionis?"

It was a mystery what had happened when they resurfaced from the Lake of Fear. Numbuh 497 said she had somehow fainted when they disappeared into the lake and woke up to find them plus the missing operatives on the shore unconscious and called for backup.

He wondered if the Lake of Fear had been lonely and called out to his operatives. He couldn't go through with decommissioning them, especially since they had no recollection of doing anything as crazy as jumping into dark moon lakes.

Numbuh 274 was a control freak, sure, but he wasn't unfair.

When he came to on the shoreline, he found the pearl caught in between his and Rachel's fingers. He had held onto her until the end.

The main computer alerted him that someone was beyond his office door requesting his presence, so he pocketed the pearl and found himself inside his XO's office. Rachel looked at him with trepidation.

"I was told you hacked into my file," she said slowly, almost fearful.

He smiled warmly, hoping it was enough to calm her and perched himself on the edge of her desk. There was a string of pink pearls in her pencil holder though not as brilliant as the one in his pocket, he wondered about the coincidence before gazing back at Numbuh 362.

She continued, her eyes downcast. "If I can explain myself... my personal history. One that hasn't been dissected and put neatly on file. I just... I'm not..."

I'm not delightful.

"You'll tell me whatever you feel like telling me," he said calmly, emboldened by Oblivionis' tear in his pocket. "Because nothing you say will make me think less of my Global Tactical Officer."

She snapped her head up, brown eyes wide and open. The only difference than last time was that she didn't close up afterwards. He was privy to something private, a side of her no one had seen until now.

He listened quietly to her soft words. One about her life without color and no one to share such a bleak existence with. She trilled with faint affection for Lily Sanders, the girl in her file who sounded so fearful in her witness testimony, and of the only singular bit of friendship offered but treasured.

But then Lily turned away in fear when Rachel showed her true colors. She fought with a ferocity that KND cadets would have traded anything away for. Then they locked her up until the ray of light called the KND sought her out and released her from her prison.

"Inmate 362 became Numbuh 362," Chad murmured and glanced at the string of plastic pearls hanging in her pen cup. "So I guess that's the infamous gift you got from Lily?"

"I suppose it's silly to keep it seeing as she probably hates my guts..." she continued quietly. "Or forgotten me. But I never forgot who I became that day."

Since that day, she used non-violence to counteract that aggression deep inside her, but Chad would have none of it. Why hide so much emotion? Why bother living at all?

Then he remembered how pearls were made. "When an oyster's insides are invaded by bad things, it wraps the contamination in layers and layers until it becomes nothing but a harmless shiny pearl. You've got something in you, McKenzie, something powerful and dangerous. That's why you were chosen for this job. You were born for this."

There it was. He saw her shoulders twitch up again, a typical defense mechanism he was familiar with. "There was nothing great about what I did, what I was capable of. It was violent and bad and people hated me for it. If the KND hadn't recruited me, I would have..."

Oh, but there was so much more. So much. He grinned and slid around the corner of her desk to move much closer, determined to see that shell break open and release the brilliance trapped within there.

Her head tilted in his direction and he vaguely remembered the little moon goddess in control of his XO's body and the kiss that saved him from drowning. It was warm and fluttery, like a butterfly, but it wasn't Rachel who did it. Not really.

What would a real kiss from his XO truly be like? "A pearl can't be made if that dangerous thing didn't get there in the first place. Pearls are pretty. Rare. And lots of people fight and pay lots of money for them because they're valuable. You joined us and you were given the tools you needed to wrap that dangerous part of you up, layer it, and made it invaluable to those who need it. You have something better than a string of pearls to treasure now."

For the first time, something snapped within his XO and her humanity flashed before him. Her bottom lip quivered with true, beautiful emotions befitting a young girl. He refused to blink, arrested by the sight until she saved her composure by covering her face, and he wished she openly cried at least once.

He wanted her to cry just so he can make the excuse to hold her tight on his own merits and not because he didn't want to lose her or the others to the black abyss.


	6. Act 5: The Extraordinary Circumstance

**On this particular day, something shifted between us that I couldn't ignore even if I had tried.**

**I only wish the circumstances were a bit more different but that was the life of a KND operative. Expecting the unexpected was practically the credo you worked by.**

According to the latest intel, Cupid's Arrow, a love scorned teen that sought to ruin Valentine's Day every year, was on the loose on Moonbase thanks to Sector V. Numbuh 2 had become infected by Arrow's new diabolical weapon, stripping the mind of all sense of reason in the pursuit of kissing the daylights out of anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

Numbuh 1 recounted the event to his Supreme Leader, both apologetic and professional at the same time. Infected while trying to re-handcuff Arrow to the shuttle bulkhead while on the way to Arctic Prison, Arrow distracted their pilot with feral teenage romance books and then ignited a cherry bomb. The operative, unfortunately, imbibed the smoky air.

Sector V eventually ended up crashing their shuttle onto the Moonbases auxiliary docks when Numbuh 2 went stark raving mad, giving Arrow the escape she needed to wreak havoc this time on 274's domain.

"MUWAAAA!" Numbuh 2 shouted in his containment cell, pressing himself bodily against the two-way glass to give a slobbering kiss to the others beyond it. Everyone cringed at the mush of lips against the glass.

Numbuh 4 loudly gagged while 3 squealed out an 'Ew!'. "Gross, Numbuh 2! Knock it off!"

"Numbuh 5 don't think he can hear you," Numbuh 5 shivered and lowered her hat over her eyes. "He's off his rocker!"

"Maybe you should cure him!" Numbuh 4 teased and danced around the stoic group. "2 and 5 sittin' in the-YEOOOOWW!" He howled in pain when Numbuh 5 kicked him right in the butt for his remark.

Numbuh 274 forced himself to endure a sliver patience dealing with Sector V having had enough with this dallying while every two seconds, he's been getting calls about infection throughout his Moonbase. "The only way we can find out how to reverse this is by capturing the teen and interrogating her into revealing it," he demanded shortly. "As I seem to recall, Cupid's Arrow is still running amok on my Moonbase."

Instantly saluting in attention, Numbuh 1 turned to address his team. "Right! You heard the Supreme Leader! Cupid's Arrow has been sighted on the science deck so let's split up and join the recapture efforts! Watch out for those cherry bombs, team!"

"Right," Chad drawled, indefinitely putting this on Sector V's head in his report, the troublemaking sector they were known for. The only saving grace that kept him from threatening decommissioning was that the Command Deck had been sealed shut pending the infiltration. The operatives on the other decks were long due for an emergency anyways, the lazy pencil pushers they are. He'll chock this up as a monthly drill as a Valentine's gift.

A rallying cry later and four out of five of Sector V ran out. Chad paused, glancing disdainfully at the kissy faces that Numbuh 2 was directing at him before he realized something vital and called out sharply at their disappearing backs, "AND DON'T BLOW HOLES IN MY BASE!"

* * *

They ruptured five reinforced walls in the next half hour.

A small twitch in Chad's right eyebrow was born today. He spent his throne-sitting watching operatives scramble on the vidscreen in a panic from lovestrucked co-workers with Numbuh 3 chasing after Numbuh 4 in the background. She had a madness befitting a Japanese monster from old movies except, instead of rampaging a small city, she was looking for true love's kiss.

He was watching Disney's Godzilla in Love. How quaint.

Alpha shift was on yellow alert if the stiffness of their backs were any indication, but they performed as normal in making sure nothing penetrated the heart of Moonbase. Numbuh 274 could run the base alone just fine so long as his crew wasn't panicking. Everything outside of the lockdown were expendable to 'icky kissing epidemics'.

Numbuh 362 approached the throne to give him the latest report, her fingers moving to grip the back of the chair after he accepted the hard copy first. Anyone else who touched his beloved seat would have been stared at or glared down into submission, but he found himself hardly threatened by her presence. She was immune to his control hangups.

"Medical has been put under quarantine, sir," she said quietly.

"Put that on report that Medical's been lazy," Numbuh 274 answered at the report before looking back at the vidscreen for visual confirmation. "They should have done that an hour ago."

"Yes Supreme Leader, sir."

It's only been a few months since Numbuh 362 had been promoted as his Global Tactical Officer and yet he's never had such a good operative to work with in his days running the KND. She was an adapter, one that offered solutions and asked the important questions without letting emotions dictate them. It was an admirable personality trait he was glad KND Intelligence enforced from its operatives.

He had almost been afraid that having a girl answer directly under him would cause problems given his 'reputation' and his fanbase, all of which didn't appeal to him in the slightest. Rumors be damned, he would never let such a thing hinder his ability to run his Moonbase. Numbuh 362 had been a model XO he was quickly growing to trust commanding alongside with.

His sharp blue gaze wandered from the screen and to his XO again, who was preoccupied with her tablet he handed back and the text messages that were beeping madly for her attention.

Finding mild amusement in watching her nibble at the end of her stylus in concentration, an explosion startled the command deck and his attention immediately snapped to the monitor. The red alert blared to life and the main computer sounded the alarm.

Intrusion on Command Deck. Lockdown suspended. All personnel to the bridge. Have a nice day.

A tall, covered security officer ran up and saluted. "Supreme Leader, sir! A reinforced wall has been breached."

"That's the sixth one, Sector V..." Numbuh 274 growled to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is coming out of your pay."

Numbuh 362 stepped off the throne to dress up the security line while he ordered his Communications Officer to contact Sector V and give them an earful for their negligence. Unfortunately, no hails were needed.

Startling half his bridge crew, Numbuh 1 and 5 crashed onto the deck and pointed their weapons in the general direction of his XO.

Oh for crying out loud! Numbuh 274 retreated from his throne to reprimand them. "Stop threatening my officers!" he snarled. "And stop punching holes in my Moonbase!"

Numbuh 5 nudged her weapon at the security officer and Numbuh 362, both frozen in surprise. "It's her! It's Cupid's Arrow!"

Eyes widened in realization, Numbuh 362 dropped her tablet and pounced at the security officer, intending on disarming the teen before she tossed a cherry bomb right at the throne and in 274's vicinity. The cherry bomb ignited between them in the struggle and the two became enveloped in a sickenly pink smoke.

In a mass panic, the entire deck immediately reached for their weapons and secured the area while 274 ordered the rest of the smoke to be sucked out by the AC. Picking up a modified traffic sign that doubled as both a weapon and a symbol of his command, he armed himself when the smoke cleared and found his XO coughing beside Cupid's Arrow. The teen looked positively mortified at what just happened.

But only for a brief second. Seeking the closest person next to her, she tried to launch herself at the prone Numbuh 362, making kissy faces before her teenage mug was smacked by Numbuh 274's traffic sign. She fell back hard on the polished floor, knocked out cold.

"Well look at that. A kiss that actually knocks you off your feet," 274 said acidly, causing many to awe and clap at his awesomeness before he checked on his XO, who looked appropriately horrified and was staring absently at the floor. He reached to grasp her shoulder and as if electrified, she bolted out of the deck and into the personnel offices, leaving the rest of them stunned.

"Is Numbuh 362 alright?" One of the operatives lowered her weapon in alarm at the sudden departure.

Numbuh 1 seemed to be catching on to something. "Wait... didn't Numbuh 362 get caught in the blast with Cupid's Arrow too?"

Oh no.

Ordering his third to take over for clean up, their Supreme Leader ordered two emerging security operatives to follow him and left the deck without another word.

Numbuh 362 was his Global Tactical Officer. It was a position that required pride and decorum to maintain their subordinates. If anyone would keep an eye on her to prevent anything problematic that could ruin her professional image, it would be her superior commander.

Palming her forehead tiredly, Numbuh 5 got to work in helping the rest of the crew divest the villain of her troublesome bombs and arrest her. "Numbuh 5 gettin' too old for this!"

* * *

Numbuh 362 had barricaded herself in her office and he would have been glad for it if not because their offices were connected. If her's was locked, his office through hers was as well. Deciding that it was best she remained locked up for the important debriefing brewing in the containment level, he ordered security to stand guard of the office. Overriding the lock with his own as another precaution, he headed down to deck 12 for a solution.

"We've bad news and… 'err' news. Bad news is we ain't getting anything out of Cupid's Arrow. Not in her state." Numbuh 5 thumbed the glass where the villain was bouncing around the confinement like Numbuh 2, looking to kiss something. Anything.

Numbuh 1 nodded and rearranged his sunglasses. "The science nerds upstairs are examining the bombs to engineer a cure, but it may take awhile. Too long. Then it becomes unnecessary when we can find a better alternative."

Unnecessary. Numbuh 274 folded his arms and bowed his head, obscuring his eyes with his helmet in mild contemplation. "What's the 'err' news?"

That caused Uno to flash a warning look at Numbuh 5, who had the decency to look sheepish.

"I talked with my sistah," she idly scratched at her cap. "We ain't the only ones dealin' with Cupid's Arrow. Only teens don't mind doin' it the old-fashioned way."

Uno cleared his throat awkwardly and stared at the opposite wall.

The product of this 'old fashioned way' was Numbuh 3, who seemed to be back to normal and red with giggling. She patted at Numbuh 4's head who was so stony, he looked ready to fall over from embarrassment. "Just let them kiss you! It worked for meeeee!"

Numbuh 1 cleared his throat again. "Uh… well, we're looking at other options. Maybe a decoy robot or something…" Uno paced, that infamous erratic mind bending and whirling with possibilities.

Numbuh 274 could only muster a slow, "Uh-huh," which only caused the leader of Sector V to bumble with more hairbrained ideas. He stopped the rambling with a tired raise of his hand as a sign of him leaving. "Alright. Get… on it or something. Zero save us all."

Zero save them indeed. Teens may get away from the kissing and many love-hungry hobbies, but this was the KND. It might as well have been a death wish for most of those infected. Who's looking to get lip serviced by one of their prominent science nerds?

Still, he wandered back to the officer's quarters and ordered the security by the entryway to leave. Folding his arms tentatively, he leaned against the door, his helmet askew as his ear pressed for any sounds within. Odd how there was no commotion like the others. "Hey," he murmured softly into the silence, "how are you, Numbuh 362?"

No answer. "I guess you're not in then," he lightly teased and toyed at the keypad. Four little button presses would open the door instantly. "Suppose it's safe for me to check my Yipper card collectio-"

"PLEASE DON'T COME IN!" The squeak was so not-362 that for a wild moment, Chad thought it was someone else in their office. "Please." It was so soft, he almost didn't hear it.

And yet, he heard the whisper, because she was pressed against the door. The infection wanted her out to the other side like Numbuh 2 and the others, compelling her against her will to reach him and...

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat at the usually stoic 362 being emotional and unhinged behind a slab of metal.

Was her normally cool brown eyes wild and undone? Curiosity was getting the better of him.

There was another round of silence. Whereas 274 couldn't decide whether he was amused or guilty for the state 362 was in, (she was the one who took the bomb meant for him), 362 was trying valiantly to pretend there was no one beyond the door lest she tried to claw her way through it.

He knew this because he can hear the light scratching against the reinforced metal. "Listen," he put on his best reasonable tone, "intel suggests that the fastest way to take care of your problem is to just let it happen," he paused, frowning at his next words. "I'm coming in."

"No!" he heard her cry out, and he knew the pain in that tone. They had an actual, viable professional relationship. There may be consequences to that action. He too, had to consider the repercussions. Fraternization wasn't exactly written in the KND creed, seeing the thing was… an older person problem, not kids. It was an unspoken rule because even as kids, there was always drama.

But he was Numbuh 274. He went above and beyond the call of duty for his operatives. Especially his XO. "I want to help you," he said honestly. A first in a long while. "Don't want to lose you either to this… thing either. You're a darn good operative and an efficient XO. So we just do this and forget about it, okay?"

Silence again. Behind all his natural bravado, he found his palms sweat. Kissing girls were easy and often fleeting. But this was Numbuh 362. There was more at stake than the others.

Her answer was defeated. "Okay." And really, a pang of guilt hit him hard. Also fear. What would it be like for a control freak like him to lose control? Not his command, but his own body? Perhaps this reasoning was what straightened his resolve. No one was going to witness Numbuh 362 in her weakest except for him. He would take it to his grave.

"Is it possible for you go into my office?" he asked kindly. The odds of him opening the door and having her jump him in the corridor was high. Discretion was key.

She said nothing, but he gave her a minute anyways before he keyed in his override code and the light indicator above the door turned from red to blue. He wiped his hands dry against his samurai armor and waited for the door to slide open.

His request had been denied. As soon as he took a step in, he was quickly grabbed before the door could properly slide shut and a hot flush of air hit the side of his neck. His KND instincts overwhelmed him. Personal space. Personal space. Personal space. Violated.

In a rash panic, he grabbed Numbuh 362's shoulders hard, as if to shove her away, but her arms entwined themselves around his neck, holding him, immobilizing him.

And then everything short circuited in his head when he felt something soft press against that side of his throat, tentative but forward. Like she belonged there and nothing can remove her from it.

This was… disorienting. He was expecting something comical and gross, like when Numbuh 2 slobbered all over the two-way mirror or Numbuh 3 squealing and rampaging all over the place with her lips puckered. This was very muted, very calculated.

A huff of amusement left his lips. Just like Numbuh 362. The iron grip he had on her shoulders lessened and that seemed to encourage her as that locked cross of her arms softened in response. "It's okay," he said quietly, "we're a team. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

Another chaste kiss against his neck. He suppressed a shiver when she pulled away, just slightly, and instead of seeing that typical love struck expression he knew from experience, he found only pain. Pain and utter humiliation.

Determined, he wound his arms around her waist and lifted her up to properly hug her. "It's okay," he repeated. "I'm here. No one's going to see."

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek as if in gratitude. For the first time in his career in the KND, his arms shook. He wasn't afraid or angry.

Unknown. That was overwhelming. The only constant was that he would not let anyone subjected to this humiliation except for him. But was the humiliation for him or for her? Both?

When she pulled away a second time and that alien heated gaze of her dark eyes flickered to his mouth, he braced himself for the worst. One poor operative recounted the experience as 'sloppy and gross' and while he's kissed other girls before, none of them were under any stupid epidemic.

"Rachel," he said, using her first name, which seemed to temporarily snap her out of it. Her eyes met his, confused and almost disappointed. As if he found something wrong with her. Chad shook his head and managed a smirk to reassure her.

No, looking back on the incident, it was… pleasant. Almost magical if you discounted that she was induced into it.

When she kissed him, it was chaste and firm, which made him appreciate the closeness of the act instead of the actual kiss. This was probably the closest he would ever get to her personal space, that unreachable world where it was just the two of them.

She prepared to pull away then and his sharp mind now in a haze, didn't wish to end it so quickly. He chased her retreating lips with barely a half kiss before she physically pushed herself from him and onto the floor.

Still dazed, he didn't move from his place against the door. Instead he found the flush of red of her cheeks and her slightly mussed up hair of more importance at the moment. And when she looked up at him in mute confusion, those lips slightly full, he was ultimately lost.

Maybe the infection was transmitted through contact and now he was the one who's lost control. It took a tremendous amount of willpower to take a simple step forward and offer his hand to her… and not using it to draw her back in, do everything within his power to coax her into another kiss.

Rachel looked at his hand, then back up at him, tears prickling in the corners of her once cool eyes. "That was… my first kiss."

That torn admission broke through the haze and compassion settled in. He knelt beside her as equals. "Doesn't have to count," his words were almost desperate when he cupped her cheek and moved his fingers into her hair to calm her as much as it calmed him. "Don't worry. It never happened."

But it did.

* * *

A few days later and everything on Moonbase went back to its normal routine. The dummy decoy thing Uno kept preaching about actually compensated the inflicted operatives no one will kiss and everyone seemed to be of the mindset that no one spoke of the event again.

Rachel, who was granted a few days off which ultimately lasted an hour, had returned to her stoic Numbuh 362 persona with a few quirks. It was hard for them to look each other in the eye and Numbuh 274 often had to take her report while staring over her shoulder and her vice versa.

They were supposed to go back to normal. It never happened. But there it was. That lack of eye contact obviously implied it happened.

Almost nodding off during a rather slow day monitoring Earth's reports, a warm cup of hot cocoa found its way into his hands. Numbuh 274 focused an actual smile of gratitude at Numbuh 362, who seemed at ease with herself for the first time in the last few days.

"Thanks," he said.

Her expression shifted in that split second and instead of that quiet calculating look she normally gave everyone, there was an openness there. "It's okay," she answered cryptically, "there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Something told him this wasn't about the cocoa. He only stared at her, mouth slightly agape, and completely entranced by how… adorable she looked at that open curiousness she was showing him and only him.

His response was lacking, but she seemed to have gained something from him, for there was a flash of a small smile before she stepped back down and returned to her duties.

Sitting back on his throne, he idly brushed a knuckle against his upper lip, his thoughts drifting on things other than work for once.

Maybe. Just maybe.


	7. Act 6: The Echoing Sentiment

They half dragged him down a cement hallway devoid of all light except for one at the end of the tunnel. A simple lightbulb dangled above a steel door. It was an ironic perfect cadence of their marching with his black shoes scraping the floor until they stopped at the door and one of them buzzed in.

Chad growled, hair askew and itching for a communicator to Moonbase that wasn't there, was suddenly tossed into another large hallway. This time the walls were lined with some strange geometric foaming which reminded him of a sound studio.

A man stepped into his line of sight from his place on the floor wearing a three-piece tuxedo with twin trails of fabric following his jacket in the back. It was obvious from the get-up what kind of adult villain he was supposed to be.

"Maestro," Chad glared. "Looks like Father wasted no time trying to hire you, did he?"

"He pays really well," Maestro admitted, his Italian accent thick and amused, "and he supplied my poor artistic soul with a beautiful academy devoted to the musical arts!" He spun around at the gloomy walls. "Isn't it lovely?!"

Chad pretended to examine the surrounding place before the barrel of a security guard's weapon pressed hard against the back of his head. "Looks like you got the short end of the stick, Maestro. Looks like a prison."

With a shrug, Maestro snapped to the side and maneuvered with a grace across the room. "Toh-MAE-to, ta-MAH-to."

There were two covered objects near the end of the room, one larger than the other. With a flourish, Maestro whipped away the white fabric from the smaller object, revealing a grossly modified violin.

Chad's lip curled. "You wish."

"You don't really have a choice," Maestro said softly and walked forward with the grace of a Bond villain. "I was a wee little thing, about your age, maybe younger. My mother came from a long line of sousaphone players. So, obviously, I too should become a sousaphone player. My mother handed me an antique sousaphone and said, 'Go my boy and become a sousaphone player I would be proud of!', but no matter how many nights I practiced, I never got better. Do you know why?"

The preteen shrugged. "You just naturally sucked?"

"No! No!" The adult huffed and wagged a finger in his face. He pulled away before Chad bit it. "I was never taught to play the sousaphone! What kind of mother gives their child an instrument and say, 'Play like a god in one week'?! No one! The more I practiced, the more I grew angry until one day I threw my great-great-great grandfather's sousaphone right into a wall. It shattered into tiny little pieces, you should have seen it!"

Maestro's story became erratic the more he paced the length of the room. Chad's head was spinning from the pacing. "Is there a point to this story or is this part of the torture?" he asked wearily.

The adult chuckled. "Oh, we are getting to that. Children are so naturally impatient. One day you will regret speeding through life when you are old and balding."

"Welcome to the Music Administration!" Maestro sang alongside a chorus of security guards.

* * *

Chad's fingers danced along the fret board to an audience of three: his strict violin instructor and his parents. The bow slid across the strings in a bounce, picking up speed as the piece demanded a climax.

Despite the perfect cadence, the catch of every note, his mind was always elsewhere, somewhere far off beyond the auditorium's rafters, beyond the very sky.

Earth was no longer his home, not when the Moonbase called to him like a siren's song, greater than any musical piece on earth. His thoughts drifted to anything but the music and his last thought was of Numbuh 362 sitting primly on his throne, always uncomfortable in command and more suited to solitary work.

The bow fell into a fading crescendo and his parents clapped eagerly at the empty stage.

**I've always hated the violin.**

If living the NFL dream was his father's, living the life as a famous violinist had always been his mother's. Since both dreams failed on their own, they fell back on their only son and hoped he achieved either or both when they couldn't.

He didn't even realize he resented the treatment until he turned twelve and stoked up the courage to go toe-to-toe with his overbearing parents. They were slowly becoming less of the untouchable forces of nature he couldn't help but worship and more like dictators human like him, deserving his burning of their effigies for making things unfair for him.

His mother laughed it off and called it a touch of puberty.

His father warned him to keep his rebellious nature in check.

For the first time in his life, he was torn. If he acted like a preteen, it only cemented the fact that time was slipping out of his favor and his Time would eventually be upon him. If he tried to reign his newborn taste of rebellion, he knew it would tear him from the inside out.

Bottling things was never a good thing. Look what happened to his XO in her confidential past.

After practice, his instructor led his mother to a private conversation while Chad wordlessly packed up and half-listened his father's ramblings about his upcoming admission to junior high and the prospects of joining the Hendry JV Football Team in the fall.

"I met with the coach during the last PTA meeting," his father clapped his unresponsive son on the shoulder. "He was extremely interested in the trophies you got from MVP Camp the last few years. Said if you show off that secret throw we were working on, you can be a shoe in for QB this year!"

"Great, dad," Chad answered in a slight monotone, more interested in strapping the instrument and the erratic movements his mother was making in the corner of his vision.

His instructor shook his head despite his mother's hushed pleading and realizing the prodigal son was watching them, he walked over.

Chad's father blinked. "Something the matter, Mr. Pierre?"

His violin teacher primly sighed and crossed his fingers together. "I think we may have to suspend any further instruction with young Chadworth."

Taking it the wrong way, Chad's father clapped him on the shoulder. "My boy too perfect for the violin, you say?"

His mother was on the verge of tears, which alarmed her son. "I don't understand! His playing was perfect, Pierre!"

"Technically perfect, but little else," Pierre said shortly. "I'm afraid there is little else we can do. The violin will have to be something he could not pursue and succeed in."

He had never failed at anything in his entire life. "Are you mad?!" Chad snapped, blue eyes blazing at his snobby teacher. "I've done everything you've asked and you've got the guts to tell me I've failed?! I've done better than all of your students combined! I've passed each one of them in competition! What are you playing at?!"

"Chad!" his mother tearfully protested.

"Where was this energy when you played?" Pierre regarded him plainly. "You have no passion for the instrument. No dance, no romance. One note after the other without deviation; your mind is elsewhere instead of the music. Chadworth, you are no better than a computer playing a tune verbatim."

Chad could only stand there stunned while his mother cried, unable to comprehend what just happened.

He had been deemed incompetent at something.

* * *

The door slid open without ringing and he knew it was Numbuh 362. He gave the entrance to his private quarters a second's glance before returning to the cascade of sheet music littering his desk and floor, the aftermath of his subsequent breakdown from yesterday.

There had to be some incriminating bit in this music that set him up to fail and he would examine every single note until he found it.

Rachel's soft footsteps paused beside him. The light ruffling of her clothes brought the heat of her body almost flush to his when she knelt beside him. He attracted to it like a moth to flame until he forced it down and focused entirely on the music.

"I had no idea that you play music," she said neutrally, no doubt gauging his occasional bouts of manic frenzy. The last time he was like this was a week before a giant test in a subject he was weak in.

He tilted his head and snarled, "You haven't heard? I utterly suck at music. A computer playing a tune verbatim!"

Instead of recoiling, she blinked, letting him get used to her intrusion until he settled. Eventually the sharpness in his gaze lost its bite, and he returned lethargic to the sheet music and the violin half turned on the floor.

"If you don't like the violin, then don't play it," she answered.

He laughed humorlessly. "It's not what I want. It's what my parents want. I'm the key to their goals. Their prodigy."

Quietly accepting the answer, he watched her pick up the sheets and put them back in order. "You're not a robot. Not like..." she paused in her wording, but he didn't need to hear the rest of it. There was a little startle of her shoulders and when he looked over his shoulder, he found her staring at a paper cut on her finger like she had no clue what to do with it.

Without thinking, he reached for her hand and pressed the cut finger to his lips, an instinct he always did whenever his fingers were cut up. She stiffened, which brought him to reality.

"Sorry," he said unapologetically and let her fingers drop. "Force of habit."

A light flush dusted her cheeks, but her neutral tone gave nothing more away. "Do you always stick other people's cuts in your mouth?" An undercurrent of humor lifted away the awkwardness that would have ensued and it made him grin.

"No, just my XO's. Comes with the perks of being second-in-command," he teased, though his thoughts continued to wander to what was almost a half a year ago, when he felt her lips press against his during the Valentine debacle and the promise that it never happened.

There it was. That tiny lift on the corners of her mouth, which was more of a victory than any forced kiss. "I see."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute while Chad plucked his violin back up and tested the strings.

"What do you want to do?" Rachel changed the subject and returned to reshuffling the papers, this time taking care of her paper cut.

"What I want?" he sat back on the floor and watched her work with a quiet efficiency he admired. "I have simple tastes. I want to stay on Moonbase. Forever."

Rachel paused. "Me too," she whispered. "I'm happy here."

That odd fluttering in his gut came back again. Spending an eternity running the Kids Next Door with his XO by his side sounded like a dream come true.

Then his thoughts drifted to his impending 12th birthday that solidified an impossible dream.

**I don't want to lose this, I decided. I didn't want to lose my command, or lose her. They were the only things I've earned so far in my life. Rightfully earned.**

"You mentioned something about your school's winter concert last week," she continued with an air of thoughtfulness. "If you're in the orchestra, maybe I'll watch you play."

Something in his chest beat frantically, hard but fluttery, like anticipation and fear all at once. Fight or flight instinct was kicking in when realization dawned on him.

He had never seen her outside of the KND before.

* * *

He had been in captivity for one whole week and yet it felt like an entire year.

Maestro forced him into a chair and ordered him to play soft songs, difficult songs, technical and improvisation until his fingers blistered running them up the fret board for hours on end.

Every time he refused, he was given front row seats to an orchestra blowing horns into the captive Sector Q's ears until their screams and whimpers urged him to keep playing.

"No, no, no!" Maestro frowned and smacked Chad's already stinging hand with the conductor's stick. "More passion! More emotion!"

It took every ounce of Chad's willpower not to slam the violin directly over Maestro's head and risk a sector's wellbeing. "I'm trying, you idiot!"

"You are NOT trying! Feel the music! Let your emotions soar! Find the catalyst to your soul!"

Before Chad can put two-and-two together and ask, "Mr. Pierre?", Elite Sectors Sigma and Theta from the Kids Next Door Intelligence Agency busted through the door in a percussion blast that was literally music to Chad's ears.

"KNDIA! We have you surrounded!" Numbuh 355 yelled, shoving Maestro into one of the soundproof walls. "Hands up or we'll cover you in ten kamilllion tons of gum all over your instruments! You're under arrest for the kidnapping and unlawlike imprisonment of our Supreme Leader and Sector Q! You DON'T have the right to remain silent and you have no right to an attorney or a trial with a jury of your ADULT peers! We'll allow you to cry all the way to Arctic Prison so look forward to that!"

Immediately Maestro's guards caved shortly after and Chad was untied from his chair and the lone music stand, nodding and betraying nothing short of professionalism when his operatives asked about his state of health.

"I'm fine. Did you locate Sector Q?"

Rachel emerged through the rubble with her own line of guards, taking in her Supreme Leader's state with a guarded expression. "They have been found. Are you injured, Supreme Leader, sir?"

Chad ruefully rubbed his wrists and gave her a bitter grin. "Just my pride, Numbuh 362. And maybe my dignity." He stiffened when she looked him up and down, feeling a tad self-conscious when her eyes lingered longer than necessary at the state of his fingers.

"In that case, please see to a medic during your guarded transport back to Moonbase," she nodded and then ordered him escorted off the premises. "I would rather not a repeat of your kidnapping happen so soon in one week."

If it were anybody else issuing orders like that, he would have taken offense. He was subordinate to no one and he sure as heck wasn't some piece of china to be coveted and protected.

But the way Rachel looked at him, like he was something more than china, something precious the way her eyes were softened despite her cold tone, brought pleasure to him than irritation.

One week ago, he was due to be transported off base to oversee the monthly progress of Arctic Base when Sector Q's vehicle instruments went haywire and sent their ship spiralling down Earth's atmosphere and into Delaware, where Chad had been sure was just a mythical place people just talked about.

That was when communications to Moonbase disappeared and they were picked up by Maestro and his jolly symphony of evil.

During his time imprisoned, Rachel took over as acting Supreme Leader and despite two days passing, the Board decided that Chad had gone MIA for too long and wanted her to take command permanently.

Chad scoffed at the report. Kids and their short attention spans.

Unsurprisingly, Rachel refused the post and instead pulled sectors Gamma and Theta from Intelligence to work on his and Sector Q's disappearance, no doubt peeving off her former superiors for pulling rank.

The rest, as they say, was history.

With a sigh of content now he was back in his room on Moonbase, he tossed the tablet on the couch, (gingerly, seeing as his fingers were wrapped and healing), and heard his door swish open.

"It's open," he teased, finding Rachel approach past the threshold always at parade rest before he waved the formalities off. "So stiff around me. You can visit my room without knocking, but you can't walk in like a normal person?"

"Force of habit," she echoed and eased her shoulders down. "How are you?"

He wiggled his bandaged fingers at her. "Alive. Good news though, I probably won't play the violin ever again."

She frowned and walked around the table to sit next to him, so close he could feel her heat again. It made him calm and lethargic, way more than any amount of ice cream they shot him up with to take the edge off his fingers.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, gaze dropping to his hands. "It took so long to locate you..."

There was something in her words, so lost and defeated, he instinctively reached for her despite the pain shooting up his fingers when he wound them around hers. "I read the report. Any other leader would have given up, so thanks."

She lightly squeezed around his fingers, enough for him to feel it and not wince in pain. "But you have a concert coming up."

"I'll just try to get better faster," he smiled gently. "Or I'll bite my tongue through it. It's no big." Rachel once said she'd be there though he wasn't sure if she was just joking or not. "You have to wear a dress though."

Her nose wrinkled. "Why must I wear a dress?"

"No reason," he chuckled. "Just never seen you in one before. May encourage me to play better."

Her eyebrow nearly shot up to her hairline. "You are strange. Very strange."

"You know you like it."

* * *

A thrum of anger hit Chad hard the night of the concert watching his former violin teacher sit smugly in the front aisle of the concert hall amidst the growing viewers in attendance. He was there to prove to the world that his pupil was nothing more than a machine playing the violin... and he may be right.

Chad wasn't exactly sure what he was doing wrong. However, he could play it to the note, with a perfection worthy of being a Dickson.

And that was more than enough. Right?

One of the teachers ushered him over after the band finished their last piece, causing a polite round of applause to mediocrity and as soon as he walked onto the stage on his own carrying the violin, a wave of nausea hit him with his parents eagerly video taping and Mr. Pierre's self-righteous grin.

The music piece picked was supposed to be festive and awe-inspiring and here he was probably going to puke all over the conductor below. He had never had this bad of a stage fright before. Doubled with his fingers still callused and split from before and his self-confidence was plummeting down, down, down...

...Rachel was standing in the back of the room, unable to find a seat but maybe that was better. He could easily see her wearing a simple white dress with silver snowflakes all over them. Her shoulders were hitched up, almost looking uncomfortable despite her neutral complexion.

No, maybe not uncomfortable. When they locked eyes, it was almost shy, bashful. It was adorable. She actually left her double shift for this, even dressed up for him when he asked, hoping to see for herself what he was capable of.

And really, who was he to disappoint?

He flashed her a reassuring grin and as soon as the orchestra started, he followed his cue and played.

That was when she closed her eyes, opting to listen to his playing than distracting him with the staring like everyone else. She wanted to feel the music or whatever she could get from it.

He made her jump when he pulled a haunting crescendo and gained speed, intending on impressing her anyway he could with Carol of the Bells.

His shoulders moved around in time with the music, something he had never done before. She showed more expression in the way she listened to him than he had ever seen on Moonbase and it was him pulling these emotions out of her through his playing.

There was something noticeably different here than what he practiced. He was actually enjoying the piece and enjoying the sounds that came out of the instrument.

The song ended much too soon, and he lost Rachel from the sea of people rising for a standing ovation so he could only lower his violin and bow, wishing he could see the look on her face instead.

"That was... fantastic!" One adult said, pulling him aside once he was safely behind stage. "I've never heard such a heart-wrenching rendition before!"

Then another grabbed him and congratulated him. And then another. Honestly, he didn't know what he did different and was forced to bask in the glow of praise which doubled when his parents ran up and he had to deal with his mother's tears of pride.

After he detached himself from everyone, he found Rachel waiting patiently near a stage exit with a medkit ready. It made him realize that his fingers were throbbing from the continued use and he sheepishly offered his hands for her to re-wrap.

"It was stunning," she said after a quiet moment of wrapping his first two digits. "And you managed that with your fingers... you really are the best there is."

Something about those words hit him hard and he couldn't help but beam at her. "I am, aren't I?"

"And they say humility is overrated," she said lightly, her lips quirked when she dabbed alcohol on the sores, causing him to hiss. With a blink, she brought them to her lips and blew gently.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe he was imagining things, but he thought he felt her lips brush against the rough pads of his fingers in apology before redressing them.

That lethargy returned and his eyes darkened. He wanted to lean forward, lightly bump foreheads with her...

She looked up in question and their gazes locked. It gave him liquid courage, it ignited something in him, and he really leaned forward...

A slow clap broke the connection and Rachel immediately drew back into her second-in-command persona. Inwardly cursing, Chad turned around and found Mr. Pierre there giving his own brand of congratulations.

"See what hard work can do to a stubborn pupil?"

Another wave of anger hit him, this time harder than before. "I was right," he spat, "you were Maestro."

"Almost," Mr. Pierre sighed. "If I was, I would have been sent to Arctic Prison and not here, yes?"

Rachel stiffened by Chad's side when she slipped in until there was no distance between them. He could feel her hand slip under her skirt for a KND weapon strapped to her thigh.

He reached over and grabbed her wrist, embarrassed at the placement of their hands, but he needed her to stop.

There was a time and place for fighting. This wasn't one of them.

She flashed a look at him in question, but his gaze was determinedly fixed on his former teacher.

"Yeah, well your teaching sucked," Chad growled, pulled Rachel's hand aside and dragged her with him out of the concert hall. "And I'm not playing the violin anymore. Consider this my closing show."

Pierre watched them leave with a curious air, until he murmured to himself, "So that was the incentive needed to play? What a waste of talent."

* * *

Rachel's fingers curled pleasantly around Chad's until they were locked together and giving away everything and yet nothing. "It's disappointing to hear you won't play the violin anymore," she mused once they left the theater and was hit by the cold winter air.

She was here, holding hands with him, and wearing a dress that wasn't KND issued. His mind was pleasantly buzzing, unable to comprehend this moment and almost missed her words entirely.

It was almost surreal. "This is the first time we've interacted outside the KND," he blurted out.

Her next words were hesitant. "Is it... is it bad?"

Was she overstepping her boundaries taking professional to a personal level? That was what her eyes said, and he immediately squelched that negativity. "Nah. It isn't bad. It's just a statement. Now you're like... not some kind of dream anymore. It's real now."

"That's... an interesting way to put it," she admitted quietly, letting her breath fog over in little puffs. "Because I feel the same way."

That thrumming in his chest was in full force and this time he couldn't deny it. He was breaching his own code without realizing it. He was falling. Hard.


End file.
